The Dopplegang Effect
by becka
Summary: Slash. Buffy tells Xander he's not needed anymore; he leaves Sunnydale and meets up with Logan at a bar. Chaos ensues.
1. Falling Out, Falling In

Title: The Dopplegang Effect

Author: Becka  
Pairing: Xander/Spike/Logan

Warnings: Alcohol-abuse, Angst, Child-abuse, Crossover, Dark, Jean-bashing, Language, NCS, OOC?, Rogue-bashing, Xander-torture, Violence, Yoai/Slash.

Disclaimer: Buffy, the Vampire Slayer does not belong to Becka, nor do the X-men; characters are used without permission for a non-profit purpose. No infringement is intended.

Note: This is not exactly based on X and X2. I'm mucking around with the times frames, ages, and events, and making a bit of a blend between the movie-verse, the animated series, and the comics. Short version: the school and Professor from the movie; Rogue and Bobby roughly the same age as Xander (19); Jean not dead, some mutant students from the movie, etc. So blame all inconsistencies on me; I have my reasons. (Or I just couldn't remember what happened in a certain part, so I made it up...)

o

It was bad. Worse than usual, that was for sure.

He'd sort of gotten used to it over the years. Not comfortable with it, but he and pain had a fairly decent relationship. He accepted it, understood it, but he didn't like it. He never would. And it was a friend to him, he supposed, in a sick, sad way. It stayed with him everyday, more loyal than a mastiff, and just as dangerous.

Looking himself over in the mirror, he had to grimace. Not just at these latest additions to his body, the bloody welts on his back, the angry black and purple bruises on his side, the lovely shiner his eye now sported, but the older scars and burns as well. People assumed he wore obnoxious baggy clothing because he had no taste; in truth, looser clothing was less likely to rub and chafe against whatever injury he might be recovering from, and if people were so busy being appalled at how his orange and purple shirt clashed with his khakis, they were less likely to notice the damage underneath.

Maybe he'd been a tyrant in his previous life, he mused as he carefully stepped into the shower and washed his back with hiss of pain. Maybe that was why he deserved to have the snot beaten out of him on a daily basis. His father never needed a reason; his very existence seemed to do the trick. Or maybe, he conceded as he gently taped up his ribs just in case there was more damage from those last few kicks than he realized, maybe he just had really shitty luck.

He'd long ago accepted that he must be somehow flawed if his father hated him so. This opinion of himself was reinforced every time Buffy, Willow, or Giles made a crack they thought was over his head. He didn't really blame them. He'd help them fight the good fight because he believed what they were doing was right, but he didn't think he owed them anything. Maybe at one time he had... but the donut runs and the casual use of his life as bait for whatever nasty lurked in the night had quickly dispelled him of that notion.

Today Buffy had told him, straight to his face, that he wasn't needed; he just got in her way. Giles had been lost in his texts and manuscripts trying to avert the crisis-o'-the-week; the man he had come to associate with the word "father" no longer had time for him. Willow was lost in her own magic and Tara, and Tara was so wrapped up in Willow she wouldn't have noticed the Apocalypse descending. And Dawnie... well, she was only just beginning to discover herself, and he didn't begrudge her that. The only one who seemed to listen to him was Spike, and if that didn't make him pathetic, he didn't know what would.

They weren't bad people, just like his parents weren't truly evil. They were just human, with their upsides and their flaws and their blind fumbling through life to try and better themselves and deal with the issues around them. He didn't hate them, but in the same regard, he couldn't really love them either. He stayed with them, yes, but he was human too. He used them to satisfy his need for friendship and affection. If they were belittling his intelligence, well, at least they were aware of his existence.

So he played their fool, their friend, their zeppo. He played the part of dutiful son to his parents. He was a hard worker and a decent guy at whatever job of the month he felt like going to. But something in him was stirring. Something in the air pressed upon him so heavily it was hard to breathe. Something was building, and even if he wanted to, he was powerless to stop it.

Something had to change.

After Buffy had told him he wasn't needed, and he'd realized that everyone else was too wrapped up in his or her own world to say otherwise, he'd nodded. He told her good-bye. He told all of them good-bye. And Spike was the only one who heard him. He could feel the vampire's eyes on his back as he walked out the door, and the expression was one he hadn't been able to place. He went to his house and started packing. About halfway through his father found him, beat him when he realized he was loosing four hundred a month in rent, and left to grab a beer.

Now that he was cleaned up, he finished packing efficiently, taking only the bare essentials: a sleeping bag, his sturdiest clothing, toiletries, weaponry, a few pictures and personal items, and his wallet. He walked up the stairs and out of his basement, through the door and out of his home. And, with a liberated smile, he got into his car and drove away from his life.

o

Xander sat at one of the bar stools in a seedy little place on the outskirts of town and waved at the boy behind the counter. The kid didn't look any older than sixteen. "Two shots of tequila to start with, and a bottle of LaBatts," he said. He smiled when he was asked for ID.

With a casual flip of his wrist, he pulled out his wallet and presented his fake ID. The boy glanced at it, nodded, and then ran off to get his drinks.

Xander hated drinking, but it didn't stop him from getting smashed every night. He had so many cuts from beer bottles, and considering the overpowering scent of alcohol accompanied every word his father had ever spoken to him, it was a wonder he didn't vomit when he drank. Well, he did vomit, but that was usually after six or seven shots of tequila, and at least two sixers of LaBatts.

The bar was almost empty this time of night. Most of the demon population was either out munching on whatever unfortunate schmuck happened to be without a car, or enjoying themselves at Willy's "establishment." And most people in Sunnydale had long accepted that going out at night usually meant not coming back and had resigned themselves to watching TV or sleeping. There were a couple of frat boys in the corner, too drunk to care whether it was day or night, and three or four regulars lost in their own sorrows and drowning themselves with whatever they could afford. Fairly standard and not at all unusual.

The only person out of place was a burly, hairy, expressionless man who sat by himself in the corner. Xander knew he had to be from out of town - people just didn't __wear__ flannel in California. And that hair! It looked as if the older man had been savagely attacked by an 80's hairdresser.

Unlike the other drunks, he didn't hunker over the bar. Rather, he sat upright in his chair, his eyes wandering casually over the other occupants in the bar, much like Xander was doing, and what he'd affectionately termed, "casing a joint." It paid to know who might give you trouble in a place like this, where they were located in respect to you, how drunk they might be, and how many of their friends were sober enough to back them up.

The man's eyes finally met Xander's, and with a patented smile, Xander raised his beer. The man smiled back, showing more teeth than Xander believed any man should have, and the dark-haired boy took that as an invitation to pick up his drinks and slide into the seat nearest the older man. He slid one of his shots across the counter as a peace offering, and after a curious sniff, the man accepted it.

"Thanks, kid," he said gruffly. Actually, Xander conceded, he probably wasn't trying to be gruff. His voice was just that __deep__. There was an accent there, too, but he couldn't place it.

"No problem," he answered easily, though he bristled a bit at being called 'kid'. He downed the shot of tequila he had left, cleared his throat, and asked, "You're not from around here, are you?"

"Would you be askin' me if you thought I was?" the man countered.

Xander smiled, "Probably."

There was a moment of silence as the man downed his shot then took a sip of beer to chase it. Finally he answered, "No."

"You're a very quiet drunk."

"I'm not drunk."

"Then you're a very quiet person," he countered.

"I'm not one o' those, either." The man watched Xander from the corner of his eye as if to see how that comment would be taken.

The dark-haired boy leaned back a little, contemplating the older man. "What are you then? A vampire? A demon? A demigod? Please don't say you're one of those... my friends and I had a lot of trouble killing off the last one that came to town."

The man blinked at him and cocked his head to one side, studying him intently. He didn't say anything, so Xander continued with his usual babble.

"You're not a ghost or a poltergeist are you? Or a werewolf? Though it'd be kinda' cool if you were a werewolf. I'd have to introduce you to my friend Oz... he's still trying to learn about all the rules and history, if you know what a mean. Or are you a half-demon...? Nah, I guess that wouldn't work, 'cause you could still say you were part human..."

With a small smile, the man held up a hand to stop him. "You crazy?"

"Probably." Xander downed the rest of his beer to ease his throat. "So, what are you, then?"

"A mutant." Again, the man watched him closely.

"A mutant, huh? I've seen a little bit about them on the news. Mostly 'Mutants have blown up this building,' or 'Mutants have killed this person,' but there's just as much 'Humans have robbed this bank,' and 'Humans have blown up this school,' so I don't really put too much stock in it. Hell," he smiled softly, fondly recalling a few memories, "I've blown up a couple buildings in my day. Only one school though."

"You're odd. Fer a human, I mean." The man finished the last of his beer.

"True enough. What's your power?"

The man said shortly, "Healin'. Heightened senses."

"That's not too different from a vampire, I guess. Minus the bloodsucking part. And the sunlight thing. And the stake through the heart. Though I guess cutting off your head would kill you the same as them..." Xander ordered two more beers.

The man hesitated, then said, "You smell like blood, kid." He paused, "I could smell it on you the minute you came in."

Xander shrugged. "Doesn't surprise me. My back's still healing up. Word of advise - never take on a drunk when he's got a belt handy." He paid the boy for the beers, tossed one to his companion, and began to nurse his own.

"There's ol' blood, too."

"It doesn't help when you live with said drunk, either." Xander indicated his black eye. "Anyway, how long are you in town for?" Something began to stir in him again. That change he'd been looking for...

The man stared at him with a bit of sickened understanding and answered, "Leavin' tonight, prolly."

"Think you could stand a bit of company? I've been looking for a ride out of this shithole for years." It built and built, and he just rode with it.

"Job? Family? Friends?" The man hadn't said no offhand, and that was a start.

"Got fired yesterday, but I've got some money saved if that's what you're asking. I can pay for myself. I already told you about my old man, and as for my friends... well..." He smiled. "They'll just think a vamp got me."

"What do you want from me, kid?"

"A ride, some company, maybe to learn a thing or two. Mainly a ride, if you're not willing to provide the other two." He paused, then added, "And maybe if you could stop calling me 'kid.' I'd like that, too."

The man stared at his beer, and Xander had no idea what he was thinking, but he felt the change. He felt that this was what he'd been waiting for. He accepted it. And maybe, if he was honest with himself, he wanted it.

"I get a lot of shit fer bein' a mutant. Can you take care o' yourself?"

"A bit. But if you'd be willing to teach me, I'd be willing to learn."

"What's your name?"

"Xander. Well, Alexander, but I like Xander."

"You sure you want to do this?"

"Yeah." Xander grinned, "Yeah, I'm sure. What's your name, by the way?"

"Logan. I don't know where I'm goin'..." Logan smiled again, and this time Xander managed to get passed all the teeth, "but yer welcome fer the ride."

o


	2. Under a Different Sky

Title: The Dopplegang Effect

Author: Becka

Chapter 02: Under a Different Sky

o

The kid was a strange one all right. Logan pulled the sleeping bag tightly around him, and studied his companion in the firelight.

It had been almost three months since Xander had approached him in the bar. He'd just been looking to kill some time, maybe get his bearings before he headed out again. A stiff drink didn't hurt either. And then he'd noticed the dark-haired boy with the dark brown eyes who smelled like alcohol, bitterness, and old blood.

That conversation had been the first of many. Logan had come to respect the boy a bit; he never complained that he'd had a hard life, and despite that first mention of a drunken father who beat the shit out of him on what Logan guessed was a pretty constant basis, he'd never asked for pity, or used his past as an excuse. He didn't try to unearth Logan's demons either, which was a pleasant change of pace from Jean and Scott and Charlie, and just about everyone else he'd ever met.

Xander carried his own weight, just as he'd promised that first night. Logan had thought the kid would want to take his car instead of hiking, but the dark-haired boy hadn't even seemed surprised that they'd be walking. He just reached into his car, pulled out a backpack and asked which way they were heading. He never complained about the long hours they walked beneath California's sweltering sun, and he seemed content to take breaks whenever Logan deemed it appropriate, which wasn't very often. And as for when they camped, he didn't mind chopping firewood or performing any one of the hundred menial tasks involved in setting up camp. Hell, the boy had taken to hunting as if he were a natural born predator. It had amazed Logan the first time he'd been witness to it in a way that few things did anymore.

_:: "You know how to hunt?" Logan's gruff voice cut through the still air, and Xander nodded with a quirky smile and a hint of humor in his eyes. _

_Logan noted the expression and tucked it away for later examination. He waved his hand towards the woods with feigned impatience. "Go get us dinner, kid."_

_Xander nodded again, never loosing that strange look. It teased the corners of his eyes like a madness. The older man waited until the boy's footsteps were a fair distance away before he smoothly rose from the fire's side, melting away into the shadows as he followed. He didn't care who his partner was; any human who thought they could catch an animal with their bare hands was obviously a bit off. He figured he could check out the kid's moves and maybe surprise the boy with a rabbit or two that just happened to find its way to roast over the fire.  
_

_His senses told him the boy moved smoothly. His nose told him the kid was downwind of any animal he might meet, insuring that the creature wouldn't know the boy was there until it saw him. And his heart... well, that told him the kid was enjoying this. Really enjoying it._

_Logan took to the tree tops to get a better view of his companion. His jaw almost dropped when he got a good look at the boy. Gone was the awkward gait of a boy who wasn't quite done his growing. Gone was the jovial expression of a kid who learned to smile because it kept him from crying. Gone was the youth from those dark brown eyes. In his place was a hunter, born and breed. Graceful, silent, focused. He stalked his prey, a young doe, with deadly intent. _

_It only took a moment to finish. Logan knew if he'd blinked his eyes, he would have missed it. As it was, he was still having a bit of trouble reconciling this predator to the boy who tried __everything__ to get him to crack a smile. _

_When Xander pulled a knife from his boot and began to skin the creature efficiently, Logan took the opportunity to slip back to their campsite. A few minutes later Xander appear, carrying quartered-up sections of meat in a pack crudely made from the deer's hide. He greeted Logan with a grin, dropping his prize at the older man's feet. To Logan, his expression was that of a cat who'd just laid a small, furry present at his owner's doorstep._

_Logan tossed Xander a canteen of water before he began to spit the meat. The boy looked at him, the question written plainly on his face._

_"Go rinse yer mouth, kid," he said softly, and Xander's eye's lit up with understanding. Chagrined, he did so, taking a handful of water and wiping his mouth clean. Logan was almost able to ignore that the water came away red. Almost... but not quite. ::_

Logan shook himself from his reverie. The kid was interesting, all right. And with every day that past, he became a little more disturbing. It wasn't any specific change, so to speak. It crept up so slowly that Logan hadn't even noticed it for the first two months. But now that he __had__ noticed, there was no denying it.

With every day that passed, the kid reminded Logan more and more of... well... himself.

o

"Hey, Logan..." Xander stretched out beside the campfire's side casually, "What are those exercises you do in the morning?"

"Exercises?" The older man dumped his armload of firewood on the ground with a grunt and sat on his bedroll.

The dark-haired boy grinned, "Well, whatever you call them. You always do them in the morning before we leave... I figured they were a warm-up for the hike or something..."

"They're called 'katas'... it's a way ta clear yer mind," Logan answered honestly. "An'... doin' 'em reminds me of someone I knew a long time ago."

"That's cool." Xander paused a moment, then asked hesitantly, "Is it like... a personal thing? Or... would you teach me?"

The mutant saw no trace of mockery in the boy's eyes, only a great curiosity and a need to learn. "Sure, kid. I can try."

The next morning, after breakfast and about an hour of Logan instructing Xander in the art of the kata, they were on their way. Most of the journey was in silence, which was just fine by Logan. He had enough to think about without splitting his attention with his companion.

Though, he smiled ruefully, his companion was all he could think about at the moment. The kid was a slow starter, but he'd expected as much. No one mastered those exercises in a day. Xander seemed to have a little trouble remembering what motion came next, and the transitions between those motions weren't the smoothest, and his balance was a bit off, but all in all, he was shaping up like Logan expected. That was, until the kid ran through the exercise by himself.

To Logan it appeared as if someone else had taken over the kid's body. He ran through the kata smoothly, wasting no energy. His balance was superb, his eyes were closed, and he looked as though he'd been practicing that particularly form since he was a baby. When Xander finished the kata, he'd let out a deep, shaky breath, opened his eyes, and grinned, obviously pleased with himself. Logan had said nothing.

The kid finally broke the silence and asked, "Would you show me another one?"

So Logan had.

Six more times Logan lead Xander through various katas. Six more time's Xander followed shakily, balance off, like a beginner. Six more times Xander ran the exercises by himself and executed them like a master.

Now that they were on the move, Logan glanced at the dark-haired boy out of the corner of his eye. The kid looked the same as always, breath coming easily as they continued their trek along the side of the road.

People didn't just learn a set of katas in a day, at least not to the point where they could perform them flawlessly. Even the intermediates had a little bit of difficulty focusing their attention on something so completely. From his time studying katas, Logan knew it took a lot of energy out of a person. He'd gotten used to it over the years; he could dismiss the drain on his energy simply because he'd spent so much time building his reserves. Not to mention he was a mutant; nothing ever tired him as much as it did most other people simply because of what he was.

Xander showed no strain.

His step was lively as ever, and his eyes were alert.

No one could perform seven katas in their entirety and not feel __something__. But if the kid was feeling anything, he certainly didn't show it.

Logan didn't know which of those two possibilities impressed him more.

o

Six months. They'd been traveling for six straight months, to the day. Not anywhere in particular... just wherever their feet happened to lead them. Logan had come to accept a couple of things on this trip of theirs, only a few of which had been easy for him.

He looked over at his friend, watching the man going through the newest set of training exercises he'd been taught. He performed them flawlessly, but that no longer surprised the older man. After mastering every kata Logan knew and a few he hadn't even remembered he knew, Xander had asked if there was anything else like the katas, and when greeted with an affirmative, he'd asked to be taught those as well. Logan had agreed and had begun instructing Xander in various exercises he'd learned over the years: the meditations taught to him by his Japanese master, the rigorous military exercises he'd learned from his time as the governments pet project, the training sets he'd picked up at Xavier's institute. Xander soaked them up like a sponge.

The time had been good for the dark-haired man; Logan could see that plainly. He'd had muscle before they'd started this trip, probably from the construction work he'd mentioned, but he'd built them denser with the constant walking and cutting of firewood, and he'd toned them with the katas and training exercises. Where Xander's skin had been pale before, his arms, legs, and chest now darkened from the long days under the sun. His dark hair brushed his shoulders now, and he'd stopped shaving as well. The wild beard suited his tan face.

When they first started their trip, Logan thought of his friend as a kid. Now, with these changes, he could see him as a man. So did anyone else who looked at him, for that matter.

Occasionally they'd stop by a bar for the night; Xander no longer was carded for his drinks.

They'd done a lot of talking as well. Logan didn't claim to know everything about Xander - most of his past was still shaded - but they'd talked about sports, interests, and just about everything else. At night, by the light of the campfire, they exchanged stories. Logan's were usually about the places he'd traveled, the sights he'd seen. Xander's leaned towards humorous anecdotes about his friends.

Still, Xander had only told him of the good times in his life, and while their seemed to be a lot of those, he knew their were probably just as many bad times to weigh it down. Xander never seemed to talk about those. The older man thought he probably knew more about his companion's friends than he did about Xander himself.

The real turning point in their relationship had been about two months ago. They'd set up camp and a vampire (Logan could say that without any disbelief now) had found it's way to them. It only took Xander a moment to slam a stake through it's heart, turning it to dust in the wind, but it changed the way Logan viewed his friend completely.

Before when the dark-haired boy talked about vampires and werewolves and creatures that went bump-in-the-night, Logan only listened with half an ear. He knew Xander wasn't lying to him, his nose told him that, but he'd though maybe the boy was deranged somehow. He should have known better.

All the creatures Xander talked about were real. The time he'd almost been eaten by his high school teacher, the giant praying mantis, and the one where he'd kept a gang a resurrected zombies from blowing up his school, and the Incan princess mummy who'd fallen in love with him but happened to need to suck the life out of living creatures... they weren't just real in Xander's head. They were all __real__.

So he'd come to look at the dark-haired man in a different light. He respected him and the things he accomplished as a young kid, and a human one at that.

Only now Logan wasn't so sure that Xander was actually human.

It wasn't unheard for mutant powers to develop later in a mutant's life, and Logan had smelt the change. He didn't know what the man could do, but he did know one thing for sure.

Xander was, without any shadow of a doubt, a mutant.

o


	3. To Be a Sponge

Title: The Dopplegang Effect

Author: Becka

Chapter 03: To Be a Sponge

o

Logan smelled the bar before he saw it. This day had been particularly rough on both of them, though neither had voiced a complaint. The sun had risen early, and it hadn't sunk low in the sky until nearly seven at night. That had been two hours ago. Without explaining himself, Logan took the lead and headed towards the bar. A couple bottles of ice-cold beer would do just fine right about now. He figured he could even pick up another box of cigars if he was lucky. He'd run out a few days ago and had been going crazy for one.

Xander followed without complaint and before too long they reached their destination. The younger man grinned, "Heightened senses, huh? Least you're good for something, old man."

"Shove it, kid." Logan said in response. His own grin, feral as it was, took any sting out of the words.

The place was shady, no doubt about that, but Logan knew Xander could take care of himself. He'd hoped for something a little less crowded; he'd wanted at least a beer or two in his friend before he mentioned his suspicions about Xander's mutation. After a little consideration, he figured it was probably for the best. It might make it easier if it were just the two of them by the campfire. The younger man once said he felt as though he could talk about anything there. He'd wait until tonight.

They entered the seedy establishment, drawing a bit of attention as they sat down. The men eyed them, but gave them no trouble. The women stared at both of them with a mixture of curiosity and desire, and Logan wasn't surprised that Xander was the focal point for most of those looks. What did surprise him was the surge of angry possessiveness he felt. He ordered two LaBatts and ignored it.

Xander grinned at him as the bartender put their drinks on the counter. "So, who pays? I got the tab at the last bar."

"Yeah," the older man deadpanned, "but the bar 'afore that __I__ paid, and who drank himself stupid?"

Chagrined, the dark-haired man pulled out a twenty and slid it to the bartender. When the man tried to give Xander the change, he shook his head. "Downpayment for the next round. My friend here's got a disgustingly high tolerance."

Smiling, the bartender nodded.

The two men leaned against the bar, their eyes scanning the crowd in sync. The bar was nearly full; several groups of old men played cards and drank, while some of the younger ones chatted up their respective women. One boy in particular caught Xander's attention. He looked like he was in his early teens, all scruffy blonde hair and big blue eyes. He sat in the corner, hiding in the shadows. At first glance, he seemed normal enough, but the dark-haired man sensed something was off about him. Maybe it was because the kid's eyes were constantly darting back and forth between the bar's clientele and the open entrance. Xander was sure the kid was afraid of something, but he didn't know what.

He turned to Logan to ask what his friend thought of the kid, but Logan's eyes were fixed on the door.

"What-"

Four men walked through the door. All of them carried baseball bats, but it was the one who had a length of rope slung over his shoulder that had Xander worried. The kid started violently, then tried to hunker over, pulling into himself as if doing so would make him less noticeable. It didn't work.

The guy Xander figured was the leader pointed to the kid and two of his henchmen stalked forward, their intent obvious. A few of the guys at the tables stood, but they were silenced with one word.

"Mutant."

All protest died immediately, and Xander watched with a sick fascination as they cuffed the kid across the face and dragged him out the door. Without a word he and Logan stood and followed.

They didn't have to look far. The men had dumped the kid to the ground; he looked dazed and terrified, and both emotions were so thick Xander thought he could smell them. The lead man spat on the boy. "Fucking mutant freak!" Hatred laced his every word. The mindless sort that Xander had come to associate with people who feared something simply because it was different.

Logan spoke, not loudly, but his words carried an icy authority. "Leave the kid be."

"Seriously, guys," Xander stepped forward, a grin plastered on his face. "He's just a boy. One who looks like he's ready to piss his pants at that. I mean, maybe you get your kicks out of beating on defenseless kids, but we can't really let you do that. 'Sides, if he was a mutant, don't you think he'd be defending himself a little bit better? Kicking your asses with superhuman strength or throwing snowballs at you or something?"

Henchman #1 sneered, "The little fuck threw a fireball at me this morning."

"Issat so?" Xander smiled pleasantly. "I'm sorry to see you're not suffering from any burns."

"Fuck you!" the leader yelled. "The kid's a fucking mutant! All of them should just fucking DIE!"

Beside him, Logan growled.

"Why are you defending the freak?" Henchman #1 said. Personally Xander figured that him and the leader did all the talking because the other two couldn't; their brains might explode from the effort. The man continued, "You a fucking mutant, too?"

"Nah," Xander said easily. "But I don't have to be one to kick your ass, do I?" Before the guy had a chance to respond, the dark-haired man was on him. It was times like these that his military training kicked in, one of the few benefits he'd received from the terrible Halloween that had almost resulted in Buffy's death. Two hits took down his opponent, one to the neck to stun and one to the solar plexus to disable.

He took on the second henchman, and saw Logan dealing with the third a few feet away. He didn't see the kid anywhere.

Concerned, he quickly finished off his opponent. A solid punch to the nose, and Xander was positive he heard bones cracking. The man slumped to the ground, both hands cupping his face. Blood poured through his fingers.

"Fuck you!" Xander heard the leader say. He turned around and saw Logan had the man pinned to the ground. There was an audible *snik* and moonlight glinted off a set of razor sharp claws that extended from between each knuckle.

"No," Logan growled, eyes narrowed to black slits. "Fuck __you__."

The man swallowed, eyes wide in stark contrast to the man holding him. "Fuck me," he said, voice trembling. "Oh shit, fuck me... what the fuck... you're one of those X-men... holy shit, fuck me-" His babbling was cut short when Logan punched him hard and knocked him out.

Xander saw the kid hunched on the ground, rocking back and forth. Bile rose in his throat; it reminded him of his childhood.

/It didn't happen that way this time. It's in the past./

He swallowed hard, then began speaking in a soft voice as he approached the boy. "It's all right now. Those guys aren't going to bother you anymore. You're safe, okay? They aren't going to hurt you. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you." He reached out a hand to touch the boy's shoulder.

With a startled cry, the boy pulled away from him. Xander saw a ball of fire shoot from the kid's fingertips, and he pulled back. The fire brushed his hand, but he managed to avoid most of the attack. He saw two terrified eyes, pupils dilated with fear, and he reached out his hand again, slowly.

"I mean it, kid. You're safe. We won't hurt you, I promise. And if anyone tries to, we'll stop them, okay? Relax... it's over." Xander kept his voice soft and reassuring.

The boy took a look at the four men. One still held his nose, trying to stop the bleeding. The other three lay unconscious on the ground. Turning back to dark-haired man, his hand slowly rose until it met Xander's.

"C'mon," Logan said quietly from behind him. "Let's get out o' here."

Xander looked over his shoulder and saw several men standing at the bar's entrance. Their faces were hard and unforgiving.

"Yeah." He helped the kid to his feet. "You got a name?"

"... Jason." The response was almost a whisper.

"All right, Jason." Xander grinned, "Let's blow this Popsicle stand."

o

Later that night, the two older men sat beside the fire. Jason was curled up in Xander's sleeping bag, and every so often he'd make a tiny, frightened noise. The dark-haired man wouldn't be surprised if the nightmares lasted awhile. After the boy calmed down a little, he hoped they 'd subside a bit each night until finally they disappeared.

Xander glanced at the sleeping body, a tiny smile flickering across his face. Even if he had to fight every demon in this world to do it, he'd make sure the kid was able to sleep soundly at night.

Logan cleared this throat. If Xander didn't know better, he would have said it was because the older man was uncomfortable. But then, nothing really rattled the mutant. And now Xander had a pretty good idea why that was.

"So..." The younger man's voice trailed off.

"Yeah?" Logan seemed as gruff as always, but Xander could sense he was at least a little bit worried. Did his friend honestly think he was going to flip out just because Logan was part of the X-men? He'd seen them on the news, fighting their newest enemy, leaving destruction in their wake. That was what most of the broadcasts focused on as they tried to convey that all mutants were a menace to society. What was beyond him was that while they mentioned buildings had been destroyed, they made no comment on the minimal loss of life. In a way he figured the X-men were just like Buffy and the Scoobies. They fought evil, and they were willing to sacrifice everything to make sure no one died. So Xander respected the X-men, even if most people couldn't understand why.

With a grin he teased, "Nice claws you got there, old man. If I ever need a can opened, I know who to come to."

Logan laughed. After six months of traveling with the man, Xander was able to hear the breath he was sure Logan hadn't even known he was holding. "Watch it, kid. That mouth is gonna get you into trouble one o' these days."

"One of these days?" The dark-haired boy rolled his eyes in a juvenile manner. "Don't you mean every day?"

They laughed together. Any tension that either of them felt was washed away as they fell back into their easy banter.

When they finally calmed down, Xander asked, "What do they call you?"

"Wolverine," came the short reply.

"It suits you." The dark-haired boy tried to equate the man he knew with the hero he'd seen on television. The cameras were always so far away that the X-men looked like tiny toy soldiers on the screen. Still, he'd read a little about Wolverine in the papers as well. Suppressing a snicker, he said, "But... yellow tights? And people say __I__ have no taste?"

"Shove it." The older man's eyes narrowed to slits and remembering the glint of silvery metal, Xander decided it was probably in his best interest to drop the matter.

He thought fast for a change of subject, then settled on what had really been bugging him most of the night. All joking aside, he asked, "About Jason...?"

"Yeah?"

"Well... he doesn't look like he's got anywhere to go. And even if he did, doesn't he need to be trained to use his powers or something? Fuck..." The dark-haired man cursed softly under his breath. "Sometimes I wish there was like, a school for mutants or something."

Logan grunted noncommittally.

Xander sighed. "You got any ideas?"

After a moment, the older man said, "Yeah. I got an idea."

o

A few days later, Xander began to tedious process of building a safe campfire. "Hey, Jay, a little help over here?" The dark-haired man waved a hand at the dry bundle of sticks constructed into a crude pyramid.

The teen nibbled his lower lip, and Logan caught of whiff of fear on the wind. "I... I don't know, Xander. I'm not sure if I..."

"Sure you can. C'mere." Xander motioned Jason to stand beside him. His voice was teasing. "What are you afraid is gonna happen? You think maybe you can't control your fire?"

Miserably, the boy nodded, eyes downcast.

"So, if that happens, what then? Are you gonna burn me? Or set the forest on fire?"

Another silent nod accompanied a tiny noise of affirmation.

Xander gently put his hand on Jason's shoulder. "Pretending you can't create fire isn't gonna help, Jay. For all we know, you could have a nightmare and do that. However one thing I __do__ know is that if you don't practice this, learn how to control it... well, people will definitely get hurt. Did you ever think that because you create fire, you might be able to control it, too? What if you could put fires __out__ using your power?"

Jason looked at Xander with wide eyes. It was evident the possibility had never even occurred to him.

"So, do you see why it's important to practice this? Nothing too big or anything... we'll start small and make sure you're comfortable with what you do. You have a gift, Jay. And even if it does get you into trouble, knowing what you can do and how you can do it means maybe it can get you out of trouble, too."

The teen smiled shyly and nodded. The pair proceeded to carefully light a fire using Jason's powers, and then Xander began to suggest different things the boy could try, the first of which was to see if he could make the flame smaller or bigger. The way the dark-haired man presented it was like a game, and it was clear that Xander's praise was more than enough to reward the boy when he did well.

If Logan hadn't seen it, he would never have believed it. Not only had Xander calmed the boy and gotten him interested in learning how to control his powers, he'd found a way to boost the kid's esteem as well. Some of the students at Xavier's institute needed months of careful coaxing before they were willing to accept their powers and expand their limits. Xander had done it in five minutes.

The older man sometimes wondered if Xander was even aware of the presence he had, or how his words and actions affected those around him. Even Logan himself wasn't immune to his friend's charm, though he'd never admit it. Logan occasionally teased Xander about his mouth getting him into trouble, but when the man knew he was needed, he knew exactly what to say.

Maybe that was his friend's mutation - a natural empathy towards other people. But Logan had smelled empaths before, and Xander was as far from them as he was from every other mutant Logan had tried to match him against.

After about an hour of playing with fire, Xander stopped the makeshift lesson. Both the dark-haired man and the teen looked tired, but at the same time extremely satisfied.

"Did you see, Mr. Logan?" Jason was grinning from ear to ear. "I can put fires out!"

Even though he'd told the kid a hundred times to drop the "Mr.", Jason refused. Maybe he was getting old, but to be reminded of that every time the little pyro addressed him...

"Yeah, kid, I saw. Good job."

Xander put his hand on the teen's shoulder and Logan noted the look Jason gave him, awe mixed with a tinge of hero-worship. The dark-haired man smiled and said, "Seriously, Jay, you did great. I'm proud of you." He nodded to the sleeping bag they'd purchased for the kid a few days earlier. "You should get to bed. We've got a killer walk tomorrow."

Jason nodded. There were circles under his eyes that hadn't been there an hour before, and Logan didn't doubt he'd be asleep the minute his head hit the pillow.

Xander took a seat beside Logan on the ground and spoke softly enough that the boy wouldn't be able to hear him. "You think maybe we could pick up a six pack for tomorrow night? I'm fucking dying for a beer, but I think we should avoid the bars in this area for a bit, just in case those guys spread the word about us."

"Sure," the older man said quietly. "I been meanin' to ask you... how did you know the kid could put fires out?" He expected an "I didn't," or an "I figured since the Human Torch can."

The hint of fear alerted him. "Because," Xander said seriously, "I can."

"What?" Logan's eyes widened marginally.

"I think I'm a mutant." The dark-haired man nibbled his lip then glanced over at Jason who was now sound asleep. Slowly Xander extended his hand; a tiny flame appeared in his palm. He closed his hand and the flame disappeared. It happened so quickly Logan almost convinced himself he'd imagined it. He stared at Xander, the question written plainly on his face.

"Last night I was thinking about Jay's powers, and before I knew it the firewood I was holding went up in flames. I thought Jason was having a nightmare or something, and when I was trying to figure out how to keep the fire from spreading, it just sort of died off." Xander's voice trembled a little. "So I figured it was a fluke. I picked up one of the branches and it happened again. Only I could hear you and Jay talking, and that's when I knew that __I__ did it. I concentrated and the fire went out again."

Logan said softly, "You're a pyro?"

"No. Well, yeah, kinda'... but not really. I thought it was too much of a coincidence, us meeting Jason and then me suddenly able to throw fireballs around, and then I started thinking..." Xander took a shaky breath and let it out slowly. "What if it's __because__ we met Jason that I can do this? I figure... maybe I'm like a sponge or something. Maybe I soak up whatever's around me. I mean, for the last month or so, I've been able to hear things, see things, smell things that I shouldn't be able to. There's a rabbit about a hundred meters from here, hiding from an owl." He indicated the direction with a wave of his hand. "I can smell the fear from here. I can hear Jason's heartbeat... and yours, too. I can hear the blood pumping through yours veins. I can hear the words caught in the back of your __throat__. But... I dismissed it. Sometimes I could hear things before, see things... and smell them. Thought it was the hyena in me. So I tried to think of another way to prove it, and then I remembered what you said about being able to heal yourself..."

The dark-haired man pulled a knife out of his boot. The firelight glinted off the steel and danced in Xander's eyes. Without a word, Xander sliced his wrist open.

"What the fuck are ya-" Logan's eyes widened as he watched the blood slowly pull back into the cut. The wound sealed itself without a scar.

The older man was silent.

"Yeah." Xander looked a little sick. "That's what I said."

The two of them stared at the fire in silence, and Logan began to process the full implication of Xander's powers. If he could learn mutant abilities simply by being exposed to them for awhile, he would probably become one of, if not __the__ most powerful mutant in the world. The possibilities were limitless.

His thoughts were interrupted by a bark of laughter. He looked up to see Xander shaking with mirth.

"What's so funny?"

Xander wiped the tears from his eyes and said, "When I fought beside Buffy, I used to always wish that I had some kind of superpower to help her. Now that she told me I'm useless, I can have them all."

Logan's lips twitched. "Life's a bitch, ain't it?"

"True enough." Xander stared into the fire. "This place we're going... it's a school, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"So there's gonna be a lot of mutants there, right?"

"Yeah."

Xander met his friend's eyes, and Logan ignored the flames he saw dancing in them. "So... what are they gonna do to me?"

"I dunno, kid. Don't worry 'bout it."

"I'm not worried about me, old man," the dark-haired man said quietly. He turned his attention back to the flames and Logan might have imagined it, but he thought the voice whispered, "... I'm afraid of what I might do to them..."

"Go to bed, Xan." Logan had a headache. He suspected Xander did as well. "We got a long walk tomorrow."

o

About a month later, Xander stared at the immense building Logan had led them to. With the woods surrounding it, and only one road that led to the entrance, Xavier's Institute for Gifted Students looked like something out of a fairytale. But the dark-haired man stopped believing in fairytales a long time ago. He'd learned that there was more evil in the world than there were white knights to fight it, and he'd also learned that the good guys didn't always win. So while the school might look like a heaven on earth, he wasn't ready to trust it just yet.

"Y'ready, Xan?"

He met Logan's eyes and smelled his friend's concern.

"Is that it?" Jason stared up at the complex with wide eyes.

"Yeah, Jay, that's it." He glanced at Logan again, this time with a tiny grin. "So... can I terrorize the staff?"

"If I said 'no,' would that stop ya?" The grin on the older man's face matched his own.

Xander laughed, "Then I guess I'm as ready as I'll ever be. Let's go."

o


	4. Curious Relations

Title: The Dopplegang Effect

Author: Becka

Chapter 04: Curious Relations

o

Eight months. Xander had been gone for eight bloody months. At one time Spike might have rejoiced. But that was before he'd gotten to know the boy, seen what he did on a daily basis for Slutty and her pack. And seen the way they'd treated him for it.

He hated to admit it, but he had a soft spot in his heart for the whelp. It started when the boy had taken him in; the gang asked (read: informed) Xander to take care of Spike, but the vampire knew that if Xander hadn't wanted to do it, he would have found a way around their pleading. Over the months he and the boy had been roomies, he'd come to respect Xander. The boy had a morbid sense of humor much like Spike's own, and after finding Xander had a love of Passions as well, it was no wonder the two of them had developed an odd sort of friendship. On top of that, Spike had seen the way Xander's father worked him over to the point where he could barely walk, but he'd also seen how the boy had hidden it. Slutty and the group never even noticed that the cuts and bruises the boy had were not from slaying. They probably didn't care enough to look, but Spike knew part of it was simply that the boy had been covering for his father for so long, he was a master at deception. Hell, if he hadn't known about the boy's father, he never would have guessed.

The beautiful part about it was that he'd never heard the boy lie. The kid could twist words though, like a master. And his patented Xander-babble was a beautiful means of misdirection. Even so, it wasn't forgivable that the group never noticed; they were supposed to be his friends.

So when Slutty had told the whelp he wasn't needed he expected at least Red or the Watcher to say __something__. They hadn't. Hadn't even heard, for fucksake. And when Spike had heard the quiet goodbye, the permanency uttered in that single word... he knew Xander was leaving. To this day he cursed himself for not following, for not speaking up and telling Slutty and her groupies what he thought. By the time their little research-fest had been over and he'd headed back to the boy's house, it had been too late.

Xander's room had been in a state of disarray. Not much had been taken, but he knew the boy was gone. There was blood in the air as well, so he figured the boy's father had found him and beaten him one last time. Suffering was like an aphrodisiac to a vampire, but every time he smelled it on the boy, Spike wanted to be sick. He blamed it on the chip, ignoring that Slutty's suffering still did the trick for him.

He'd moved his stuff into a new crypt and waited. Maybe the boy just needed some time to himself or something. That excuse had lasted him about two months. By then, the Lil' Bit had finally convinced the Watcher and Red that Xander was missing, not just avoiding Buffy. When the four month marker passed, he figured maybe the whelp decided to take a road trip. At Red's prompting, Slutty had beaten the crap out of Willy to see if he'd heard anything. He hadn't. By six months, Spike had accepted that the boy was never coming back to this hellhole again. Slutty had deemed Xander MIA, and as such, considered him a coward and a deserter. Red occasionally protested, but the Lil' Bit was the only one who stood up for Xander every chance she got.

As Spike entertained the notion of never seeing Xander again, he got a curious ache in his chest, right about where his heart should be. He ignored it.

So, what then? Good for the whelp! He was out seeing the world, free from his father and his friends. He was probably having the time of his life. But... what if he ran into a pack of vampires or demons, without Spike there to back him up? Well, the boy could run, right? But what if those vampires attacking some poor unfortunate...? The boy had a streak of white knight in him; he'd probably try to defend them and ultimately end up dead. A dead Xander was something Spike couldn't even picture. The boy had too much heart to die.

"Fuck it!" the blonde said aloud. That decided it. No one was going to hurt his Xan. He'd find the boy, knock some sense into him, and make sure that wherever the whelp went, he had Spike to watch his back.

First, though, he had to say goodbye to Dawn. And if he was leaving Sunnydale, he needed to tell Slutty to bugger off one last time as well.

o

"It was pink, Giles! Not green, not yellow, not purple. It was hot __pink__!" Buffy stamped her dainty foot on the ground petulantly.

The watcher pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Yes, I understand that, Buffy, but the creature you described could be one of three, and they respectively have green, yellow, and purple blood. I've never even heard of a demon with hot pink blood."

"Willow?" The slayer turned to her friend with a pout.

"I'm working on it," the witch responded, scanning an online demon database.

Buffy groaned and sank onto the couch. "Where's the bleached wonder when you need him?"

"You rang, luv?" Spike said from the doorway. The wind whipped his duster back and forth angrily, and the expression on his face should have warned the Slayer that something was amiss. As usual, though, the petite blonde took no notice.

"Finally!" she said. "All right, Spike, there's fifty bucks in this for you if you help us out. I was fighting a demon this morning, all nasty scales and pink blood, with a horn-"

Spike put up a hand and Buffy paused. Giles, Willow, Tara, and Dawn also stopped what they were doing to look at him.

"You know what it is?" The slayer's voice was hopeful.

"Nah," the vampire replied easily. "But I don't really care much, either." Buffy turned a bright, angry shade of red, but before she could interrupt him, he continued. "I'm leavin' town, so I'm just 'ere to tell the Lil' Bit g'bye. The rest o' you lot can fuck off for all it matters ta me."

"You're leaving!" Dawn sprang across Giles' living room in three leaps, her arms moving to circle the vampire's neck.

He hugged her tightly and answered, "Yeah, Bit, I am. But don't you worry, all right? I'm goin' ta find the whelp, and as soon as I do, we'll be back 'ere for a visit."

"You're looking for Xander?" Her delighted voice made him smile.

"I hate to interrupt this touching moment," Buffy crossed her arms and glared at the pair, "but why the hell are you going to do that?"

"'Cause I bloody well feel like it. Y'got a problem with me lookin' for a mate o' mine?" Spike's face shifted to its vampiric form as he growled softly at the Slayer.

"Not at all," Giles cut in smoothly. "I believe what Buffy is trying to ask is why you'd be interested in the boy. Happy meal with legs and all that."

Spike saw Willow reach out to grab Tara's hand. He turned to the watcher and answered, "Lived with 'im for a while, didn't I? And since none o' you lot made an effort to look for 'im, it's up ta me, innit? 'Sides, 'anging out with you lot's made me go soft. May not have my bite, but I still 'ave some respect for m'self. Road trip's just what I need."

"I'll miss you. And when you find Xander, gimme' a call, okay?" Dawn released her hold on Spike.

"You got it, luv." The vampire tousled the girl's hair affectionately.

"Well, I'm off." He glanced at Buffy. "The critter you're lookin' for is a Clanitarin demon. Nasty bloke. Y'prolly won't find too much about 'em, but loppin' off their heads kills 'em the same as the next hellspawn. Take care o' the Lil' Bit while I'm gone."

Willow spoke up softly. "When you find Xander... tell him I miss him. And that I'm sorry, all right?"

Spike gave the witch a sidelong glance. So maybe she was a better friend to Xander than he'd first thought. It didn't mean he forgave her, but he grudgingly nodded his assent.

He nodded to the watcher, smiled at Dawn, and turned to walk out the door. Pausing, he looked over his shoulder. "Oh, an' Slayer?" Spike's grin was like the Cheshire Cat's- all teeth.

"What, Spike?"

"Bugger off."

o

As Xander, Logan, and Jason entered the mansion, Xander was momentarily awed by the sheer size of the place. It looked big from the outside, but inside, the hallways and arches seemed to expand forever. He was afraid to touch anything; some of the pictures on the walls looked ancient, and he was willing to wager more than one of them was priceless.

Some of the children and teenagers who were walking along the corridors stopped to stare at the newcomers, but Logan's scowl sent them running. Most of the kids seemed normal enough, but Xander spotted a very young, very __blue__ boy with a forked tail. Then a girl __literally__ ran through one of the walls, only to disappear through another. Two children holding hands zipped through the air, and a child whose gender he wasn't too sure of bounced a tiny ball of electricity between both hands.

The dark-haired man turned to Logan and asked, "Is everyone here a mutant?"

Logan nodded.

The sound of their voices snapped Jason out of his stupor. His eyes were wide as he blatantly stared at the students who passed. None of the students returned his look, but Xander was fairly sure Logan's presence was the only thing holding them back. "How many... how many students are here?" the teen finally asked.

"'Bout fifty, give or take, plus a couple of teachers and the Professor."

"So many?" Xander replied. "And the teachers... they're mutants too?"

"Yeah." The older man grunted. "The guy who runs this whole getup is-"

"Logan!"

The three of them turned toward the cry. A girl around the same age as Xander bolted down the stairs. She was slender, with pretty green eyes and auburn hair. A shock of white ran through it like a skunk's tail, and the dark-haired man idly wondered if that was part of her mutation or just the fashionable thing to do. She literally leapt off the last step and came to a skidding halt in front of them.

"Rogue." The older man greeted her with a small smile.

The girl, Rogue, smiled at Logan. Xander could tell by the way she stood, hands shyly behind her back, shifting excitedly from foot to foot, that she was clearly infatuated. "I didn't think you were ever coming back! You've been gone almost a year! But the Professor said you'd be back today, which is kind of funny 'cause all the adults are on a mission, and he wants to see you. He's..." She trailed off as she finally noticed Logan wasn't alone. "Um... you brought friends..."

"Rogue," he pointed to the teen, "Jason."

"Hi!" And Xander could tell by the way Jason's eyes hadn't left Rogue's face and the stupid smile on his own that __he__ was clearly infatuated. The boy stuck out his hand, "Nice to meet you!"

Xander noted the full-fingered gloves that extended underneath the sleeve of her shirt as she took Jason's hand politely.

"An' this is Xander."

Rogue turned those green eyes to him and smiled. Xander through he could see the gears in her head spinning: Who were these people? Logan always travels alone. And if he doesn't, why can't __I__ come with him? He nodded his head and said, "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Where's the Professor?" Logan's voice interrupted Rogue's internal monologue.

"Oh!" She blushed. "Um, he said to meet him in Cerebro."

The older man grunted. He motioned for Xander and Jason to follow him. To Rogue he said, "Thanks, darlin'. I'll see you later."

The girl nodded, looking a little disappointed. Clearly, she had wanted a little time to talk to Logan alone before he saw the Professor. The older man started off in the direction Xander supposed Cerebro (whatever that was) was in. Jason piped up, "Um... I'll see you around, right?"

"Yeah," she replied absentmindedly, her eyes on Logan's back. "See ya."

o

"So, who are all the adults?" Xander asked as they walked through a long corridor. The walls and floor were made of metal, and in stark contrast to the mansion itself, it felt hi-tech, as if he were walking through a government project. "And what's a Cerebro?"

"Y'prolly seen most o' them on T.V. Scott Summers is one o' the head instructors here; his codename is Cyclops." Logan glanced at Xander with a hint of amusement.

The dark-haired man stopped walking. "You mean... this is where the X-men live!"

"Can you think o' anyplace, or anyone, better ta train mutants?"

Xander looked down at Jason, who seemed in his own world. He was probably still thinking about Rogue. "I guess not. Who else is here?" They continued walking.

"Jean... Summers, one-eye's wife. She used ta go by Marvel Girl." Xander heard an old bitterness in those words. "Storm, Ororo Monroe, is the gal you see tossin' lightin' bolts around. Henry McCoy-"

"The doctor?" Xander had seen Willow reading one of the man's many published theses.

"Yeah," Logan grinned. "An' I wonder how people would feel knowin' a mutant came up with a lot o' the treatments bein' used fer cancer." After a pause to let that comment sink in, he continued, "An' then there's Warren Worthington."

"No way." Xander shook his head. "The multimillionaire?"

"An' if yer wonderin' where he gets his attitude, that's ta blame. As fer Cerebro, it's an enhancer; the Professor's a telepath. He's the only one who can use her safely." They came to a halt in front of a large doorway with a giant X carved on its surface and a strange blue light at its center. As Xander wondered how exactly one was supposed to open said door, it split apart and retracted into the walls. Logan stepped inside with Xander and Jason at his heels.

"Welcome home, Logan."

"Professor." The hairy man said respectfully.

Xander had heard so much about the man, what was spoken as well as how it was said, that he didn't quite know what to expect from the Professor. With the way Rogue and Logan had talked about him, he'd pictured a tall, all-powerful god. Upon seeing the man in person, Xander struggled to keep the surprise from reaching his face. He failed.

The man in the wheelchair smiled. "Not up to the standards of a god, perhaps, but hello, Alexander. I'm Professor Charles Xavier. You'll have to forgive me for not standing up. And you must be Jason." Xavier turned to the teen. "I've been expecting you. I was wondering if you might consider becoming a student here? I think you'd get along well with another of my students, Johnny. He can't create fire like you, but he can control it. And you've already met Rogue."

As Xavier spoke to Jason, Xander took a moment to study the room they were in. Save the slender walkway they stood on, it looked like a perfect sphere. Metal panels connected to form an almost smooth surface. At the end of the walkway and roughly the center of the circle, a strange helmet connected to various wires and tubes sat on a metal table. He wondered if that was Cerebro, or if the whole room was a giant machine.

The door opened again and this time two women and a man entered. He recognized the man's visor from television, and guessed that the women were Jean and Ororo.

The man, Scott, if Xander remembered correctly, started unpleasantly when he saw Logan. His mouth pinched tightly around its corners. "You're back," he said flatly.

"I noticed," Logan responded in much the same tone.

"Hello, Logan," the red-haired woman said with a tiny smile.

"Jean," he greeted her pleasantly.

Xander's nose twitched. He glanced at the woman, then back at Logan. There seemed to be a lot of infatuation running around today. Maybe it was something in the water.

"Storm," Xavier addressed the white-haired woman, effectively silencing the three adults, "Jason is going to be joining our school. Would you get him settled in a room and show him around? I'd recommend moving him in with Johnny, perhaps."

Ororo nodded, "Of course, Professor." She smiled benignly at Jason who shyly returned the look with a nervous grin. The two left quietly.

"Hey, Professor?" Xander's voice cut through the air like a fart in church. Both Jean and Scott turned to stare at him as if noticing him for the first time.

"Yes, Alexander?"

The dark-haired man flushed a little. He didn't like being called by his full name; only his father ever used it. Clearing his throat he asked, "What's up with the codenames? I mean, it's not as through the X-men are a secret organization or anything..."

"It's a concept an old friend of mine and I came up with." Xavier smiled and Xander caught a faint hint of sadness in the air. "The idea was a simple one, to call mutants by a name that describes their power and their personality. It seemed a good way to put focus on oneself rather than one's ancestors."

"Huh." The dark-haired man cocked his head to one side and asked, "Then why don't you have one?"

Scott seemed to take offense to that comment and stepped forward angrily, but paused when the Professor threw back his head and laughed.

"A very good point," Xavier said when his mirth died down. "One that no one has ever made to me before. What should I call myself, then?"

"Can I have a few days to think about it?" Xander asked seriously.

The Professor laughed again. "Of course. Now," he paused and Xander watched in fascination as his entire demeanor changed, "Shall we get down to business?" Xavier gestured to the two X-men in uniform. "Meet Scott and Jean Summers, though I believe you've already figured that out. Both are like my children; they've been invaluable to me. Scott, Jean, this is Alexander."

"Call me Xander," the dark-haired man cut in smoothly as he extended his hand to the pair.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Xander," Jean said as she shook his hand, and he felt a tiny tickle at the back of his mind. He focused on the unfamiliar sensation and pushed it away. The tickle disappeared and Jean stepped back, looking as though he'd slapped her.

Scott nodded to him, but Xander noted he didn't take his eyes, well, visor off Logan.

The Professor cleared his throat and continued, "Xander has only recently come into his powers, and I thought, since Logan was so kind as to bring you to us, perhaps you might stay for awhile."

"Well, I don't..." Xander began.

"Please," Xavier said, "Stay with us for one week. My school is open to everyone, and I'd like a chance to talk with you a little more. Besides, you've been traveling for quite some time. Surely you could use a rest." It was his voice that persuaded Xander; the man sounded truly sincere.

With a defeated smile, the dark-haired man answered. "All right. But just a week."

"What exactly can you do?" Jean blurted out suddenly.

Xander glanced at her. "Um... well..." He looked at Logan and Scott who were still glaring at one another, then continued, "I'm not exactly sure. I mean, I think I'm like a sponge or something. I can pick up whatever mutant powers I'm around."

The redhead stared at him. He'd seen Willow give much the same look to a particularly confusing specimen in science class.

"Is it permanent or does it fade with time? And how long does it take you to learn a power?" she finally asked.

He answered her honestly only because he sensed the Professor was interested in his reply. "I'm not sure how long it lasts or if it's permanent or anything. And I don't know how long it takes me to learn. I was around Logan for months before I noticed any change, but I picked up Jason's power in a little under two weeks. I... think it's getting stronger."

"Hm." Jean stared at him and he felt the tickling in his mind again. This time he was certain the redhead was responsible. He pushed it away. It took a little more concentration, but he was able to do it. Jean cleared her throat and said, "We'll have to get you down to the lab. Maybe Henry can figure out how long these effects might last."

"Maybe," he responded noncommittally. He didn't want to be poked and prodded like some kind of freak.

Xander looked at Logan and Scott again. With his heightened senses, he heard a tiny growl at the back of the older man's throat. Before the two men resorted to pissing on the walls to prove who had the bigger set, the dark-haired man asked Logan, "So, who do I have to kill to get something to eat around here?"

The older man spared him a glance and Xander waggled his eyebrows charmingly.

With a snort, Logan turned away from Scott and said, "C'mon, kid, I'll show you around."

As they left, Xander could feel three sets of eyes on them. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Two of them felt hostile.

o


	5. Stagnating

Title: The Dopplegang Effect

Author: Becka

Chapter 05: Stagnating

o

Spike was bored. Strike that. He was beyond bored. If Buffy had come along right then, he would have offered her a stake himself just to put him out of his misery. For nearly a month, he'd been tracking Xander's scent, and he still hadn't found the boy.

Right outside of town, he'd found Xander's car in the parking lot of a small, shady bar. A few questions and a few dollars had told him the boy and another, older man had left there about eight months prior. The boy behind the bar said Xander had given him the keys when he left and told him he could keep it or sell it.

He'd picked up their scent in the woods. The mixture of old blood and chocolate was like candy to the vampire, but the other man's scent was harder to distinguish, too primal to tell apart from that of a bear or wolf. A fair distance from the bar, he found the remains of a campfire. The discovery had left him in a barely suppressed state of excitement. Having found so much on his first day, he figured he'd be able to locate the whelp in no time.

But each night that he traveled, running through the woods at speeds the human eye would have trouble even following, he only found the remains of two or three skeletal campsites. The only things he learned from the bars that Xander stopped at were that the man he was with looked to be about forty, and that the whelp had been making good use of the fake ID Spike had gotten for him.

The only real benefit of tracking Xander through the woods was that there was no shortage of caves for the vampire to retire to at night. Occasionally he even got to clear a couple of reclusive demons out of them.

Overall, through, searching for the whelp was a boring job. He only hoped Xander had managed to get himself into a bad spot. That way, at least, rescuing the boy might be entertaining.

o

Xander stared at himself in the mirror. It seemed ridiculous, but when he'd walked into the bathroom and seen his own reflection, for a moment, he hadn't even recognized himself. His hair hung past his shoulders, and his beard... well, he wondered what the Scooby's would say if they saw him now. He could almost see Spike snorting, "A beard, mate? Those western movies rubbin' off on ya?"

Gingerly he ran his fingers through the coarse hair and scratched his chin. "Well," he said to his reflection, "... guess I need to shave..."

He grabbed his pack and ruffled through it, pulling out a razor, shaving cream, shampoo, and conditioner. He ran the water in the shower for a few moments to make sure the temperature was right, then stripped and stepped in. Groaning softly, he bowed his head and stood with his hands against the shower wall, letting the cleansing hot water wash over him. It had been so long since he'd gotten a proper shower, he'd almost forgotten what it felt like.

As he bathed, lavishing soap bubbles on his arms, legs, and chest, his mind wandered. He and Logan had only arrived at the institute yesterday, but he was already uncomfortable. It wasn't simply that he felt like an outsider; that much had been expected. It was the barely concealed hostility that bubbled beneath the surface of nearly everyone he'd met. He could smell it; these people resented him.

Some of it he could puzzle out for himself. Rogue was pretty and popular, and clearly she thought he was a threat to her relationship with Logan. He got the impression that Logan didn't make friends very easily and that this was the first time he'd ever returned from his travels with company. And because many of the students looked up to her, they shared her dislike of him.

He ran his fingers through his hair and scrubbed his head with shampoo. Okay, so maybe she was being pretty petty, but it wasn't too surprising. Since acquiring Logan's senses, he was beginning to understand a lot about basic animal impulses; hers was one of __the__ most basic. She thought he was a threat and so she acted accordingly.

Still, it made him feel like some kind of leper when he walked through the halls and every child turned away from him.

What he couldn't understand was why the adults had done the same. Mrs. Summers obviously didn't like him, and Mr. Summers seemed to share her distaste. He honestly didn't know why that was so. It seemed like every time he tried to talk to either of them, he was blatantly dismissed or politely ignored.

With a sigh, he stepped out of the shower. His thoughts turned to Jason; he hadn't seen the teen since Storm had spirited him away. He had run into the white-haired woman, though. She wasn't rude to him, but on the two occasions he'd inquired about Jason, she'd said he was settling in and that he should leave the teen be until he was more comfortable.

Only Logan and the Professor really talked to him. He could tell his friend had noticed his poor treatment, but didn't understand it any better than Xander. And as for Xavier, well, Xander got the impression that he was more the type to encourage his students to figure out what they were doing wrong and fix it themselves.

He brushed his hair and pulled it back into a ponytail with a hair tie he'd found in the medicine cabinet. Then he set about shaving off the beard he'd become accustomed to over the past few months. He was tempted to just trim it, but he figured he could always grow it back if he found he really missed it.

When he was done, he looked himself over in the mirror, a satisfied expression crossing his clean-shaven face. He felt more human than he had since he'd started out on his journey with Logan. The time they'd spent together had been good for him; not only had his body filled out with muscles he hadn't even been aware of, he looked older and more mature as well, even without the beard. If he hadn't known he was only nineteen, he would have pegged himself for 25, easily.

His stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten, and he glanced at the clock. It was almost ten at night. He figured it was safe enough to go down to the kitchen and late enough that he wouldn't run into anyone on the way there. He didn't think he could deal with being snubbed on an empty stomach.

o

Xander's plan was almost perfectly executed. He had made it halfway to the kitchen when out of nowhere, a young girl bumped into him. He gave a startled yelp, as did the girl, who'd lost her balance, but he managed to catch her just in time.

She was cute, for a kid, with long, dark hair and big brown eyes. He wondered how he could have missed her. He hadn't __seen__ anyone in the hall...

The girl mumbled an apology, a bright red flushing her cheeks - Xander got the impression she didn't like to talk much - and ran headfirst into the wall.

At least, that's what the dark-haired man had __thought__ she was going to do. He blinked as she passed through it.

"Weird," he muttered under his breath. Shaking his head, he continued to the kitchen.

o

Robert Drake, Bobby to his friends, crept silently through the halls. It wasn't as though anyone would care he was up; he just didn't want to disturb anyone on his nightly quest for munchies. Rogue and Johnny teased him about it all the time, but he didn't care. He was a growing man, dammit, and his body demanded sustenance.

With a tiny smile, he snuck into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door, rummaging around for something that appealed to him. After careful debate, he settled on three slices of cold pizza, an ice cream bar, and a bottle of Diet Coke. He'd just managed to balance his feast in his arms when a quiet voice behind him asked, "Hungry?"

Bobby spun around, dropping the soda and the ice cream bar in surprise. By some miracle, he managed to hold on to the pizza.

The rugged, dark-haired man regarded him curiously from his seat at the table. "Sorry," he said with a tiny smile, "I didn't mean to startle you."

"S'okay," Bobby responded automatically as he knelt to pick up his food. "Who the hell __are__ you?"

Quirking a brow, the man rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I didn't think it would make me so unrecognizable. Then again, when I walked through the hallway this morning, you and your buddies were doing your best to ignore me, so maybe it's not so surprising."

Chagrined, the young mutant realized that this was the man Rogue had told him about. He __did__ look different without the beard; there was a boyish quality in his face that hadn't been there before. Though, as the man had so tactfully pointed out, he'd been doing his best to look anywhere __but__ his face.

"Um..." Bobby began uncertainly.

"It's all right. You better just get your food and go. Your girlfriend'll probably rail you out if she finds out you actually talked to me." The dark-haired man sighed and sipped his coffee.

Bobby heard quiet resignation in the man's voice and he wondered why Rogue seemed to dislike him so much. He didn't __seem__ like a bad guy. And, if he was going to be totally honest with himself, he hadn't really been comfortable with what Rogue had asked him to do. He'd agreed to it because he really liked her, and because if he was the only one who __didn't__ ignore the man, he'd probably end up alienating himself even more.

Finally he asked, "What's your name?"

The man answered cautiously, "Alexander Harris, but everyone calls me Xander. You?"

"Robert Drake. Everyone calls me Bobby," he answered in much the same voice.

"Nice to meet you, Bobby."

"Same here." Silently he padded over to the table and put his food on the table. He asked, "Mind if I sit with you?"

"What is this? The lunch room at school?" Xander smiled, then indicated a chair. "Of course I don't mind. This is my first shot at human contact in like, two days."

Blushing, Bobby stuttered out a quiet but heartfelt apology. Xander gracefully accepted and the two of them began to talk. It was a little uncomfortable at first, but the young mutant quickly found they had a lot in common. The conversation darted back and forth like quicksilver, ranging from music and movies, to sports and cars. They didn't stay on any one subject for too long, but even so, there was no shortage of topics to discuss. Again, Bobby found himself wondering __why__ Rogue had been so adamant in her dislike of the older man. That thought prompted him to ask, "So, how old are you anyway?"

Grinning, Xander replied playfully, "Guess."

After careful debate, weighing both his appearance and his attitude, Bobby hazarded, "Twenty-four?"

The dark-haired man laughed. "Not even close. Try more like nineteen."

Bobby dropped his ice cream bar in shock. "No way."

"Way." Xander's grin took up his whole face.

"__I'm__ nineteen," the blonde responded, shaking his head as he retrieved his abused ice cream bar, "and there is like, __no__ way you and me are the same age."

"Oh, like some old guy would actually be able to quote every line from Pinky and the Brain by heart?"

"Point." Bobby nibbled on his snack and replied thoughtfully, "I guess I have to stop thinking of you as 'sir' now, huh?"

They both laughed and Xander replied, "I think that'd be a good start. If you do that, I promise not to think of you as 'kid' anymore."

In an age-old ritual, Bobby spit on his hand and extended it towards Xander. The dark-haired man did the same and they shook on it. "Deal."

A quick glance at the clock showed it was nearing two in the morning, and having noted the frequent yawns that punctuated their conversation, Xander tactfully suggested, "I'm beat. Care to call it a night?"

"Sounds good," the blonde replied easily.

Cautiously, Xander asked, "So... tomorrow do you and I go back to being strangers?"

Slowly Bobby shook his head, "Nah. I don't know what Rogue's deal is, and frankly, I don't care anymore. You're like, ten times cooler than she is anyway, and if she can't get over it, that's her deal. 'Sides, I've been thinking about this, about the way we've been treating you, and it makes __no__ sense. It's like humans hating us just because we're mutants, y'know?"

The dark-haired man grinned, "Thanks, man."

"Don't mention it. So, you got any plans for tomorrow night? 'Cause I'm __so__ going to be raiding the kitchen and-" Bobby cut off abruptly. Xander swayed on his feet, looking as though he was going to be sick. "You okay, Xan?"

"Yeah," Xander swallowed and shook his head as if to clear it. "I think. I feel kind of..." He tipped forward and Bobby barely managed to catch him before he hit the floor.

"Shit! What's wrong? Are you...?" The young mutant pressed his hand to his new friend's forehead and swore again. "You're burning up!"

Xander mumbled something in response, and Bobby looked around in a panic. No one was up, and if he called for help, he had no idea how long it would take anyone to get to the kitchen. Quickly coming to a decision, he half-carried, half-dragged Xander towards the basement and Dr. McCoy's medlab.

o

"Hank! Hank, wake up!"

Groaning softly, Dr. Henry McCoy slowly pulled himself out of bed. It was on nights such as these he wondered if his occupational choice had been the right one. True, he knew his calling in life was to help others, but why was it that the others he'd dedicated his life to needed saving at -

Blearily, he glanced at the clock.

- 2:17 in the __morning__.

"Hank! Aw, c'mon Hank, please wake up!" The voice of his young friend drifted to his ears, accompanied by the banging of what he supposed was Bobby's fist, and frowning, he hurried to his door. He unlocked it and pulled it open, not sure what to expect.

Of course, of all the possibilities that __had__ crossed his mind, an unconscious dark-haired man draped across his friend's arms hadn't even made it to the list.

He relieved Bobby of the man's weight and carried him to one of the MedStretchers. "What happened?" he asked tersely as he examined the man for injuries.

"We were just talking in the kitchen," Bobby explained, "and he just... fell. I didn't know what to do, Hank, so I brought him here. I mean, he seemed like he was fine..."

Other than a high fever, Henry found no life-threatening external injuries. He quickly set one of his machines to scan the man, and he turned to his young, very distressed friend. "Who is he, Robert?"

"Xander." Bobby's eyes never left the dark-haired man's inert body. "He came in with Logan yesterday. What... what's wrong with him, Hank?"

The furry, blue mutant turned to his computer to look over the results of the first scan. So __this__ was the man everyone was talking about. The Professor had scheduled him for a series of tests the next day. He briefly wondered if he'd seen the man when he first arrived, then perhaps he could have caught whatever was wrong with him before it became a problem. Henry quickly pushed the thought aside; whatever happened, he had to deal with Xander in the present and speculating on "what ifs" would do him no good.

"Other than the fever, there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with him... but don't worry, Bobby. I promise you, if there is something wrong, I'll find it." Henry smiled in a reassuring manner. "Why don't you get some rest? I'll take care of Xander."

"I don't..." Bobby stared at his bare feet and swallowed. "I don't want to leave him, Hank."

A furry paw waved towards one of the sickbeds. "You're welcome to stay, Robert, but having you collapse and worrying about the both of you isn't something I'd herald. Sleep. I promise, if anything happens I'll wake you."

The sandy-haired mutant gave Henry a tired smile and a nod of appreciation. "Thanks, Hank."

Returning the smile with one of his own, Henry responded softly, "Goodnight, Robert."

o

Spike sighed, staring up at the top of the cave he was currently occupying. He was stretched out, all set to sleep the day away. After his night of tracking the whelp through the woods, he was exhausted. Still, he couldn't seem to sleep. If he was honest with himself, he would admit it was mostly because of Xander.

Every day he tracked the boy, it became harder and harder to distinguish his scent from the woods. It was almost as though whatever made the man he was with so... feral... was starting to rub off. But that was impossible. No one could change their own scent. If he was honest, that worried him. Who was this man and what did he have to do with Xander? Why did the whelp just pick up and leave without a word to any of them? And why was his scent changing? If he was honest, there was more than a little fear mixed in with his concern.

But he wasn't honest. He was the Big Bad, after all. Evil vampire and everything that went with it. He was supposed to lie.

Even if that meant lying to himself.

o


	6. Whispers in the Dark

Title: The Dopplegang Effect

Author: Becka

Chapter 06: Whispers in the Dark

o

Xander yawned and rubbed his eyes. After a few minutes, he sat up and glanced at his surroundings. He wasn't in the room Professor Xavier had given him, and he didn't recognize any of the strange equipment around him. He wondered, briefly, where he was and how he'd gotten there.

His cursory glance around the room ended as his eyes fell on the peacefully sleeping mutant on the stretcher next to him.

_/Bobby...?/_

The previous night rushed back to him: meeting Bobby, their conversation, and the dizziness that had hit him when he'd tried to go back to his room. Blushing, he realized he must have passed out. How embarrassing! The first person who'd been willing to talk to him besides Logan or the Professor, and he'd passed out on him! Bobby had probably brought him to the medical lab, which would explain his surroundings.

The door on the far side of the room opened, and an enormous, furry, blue creature stepped through. He smiled - or at least Xander believed it was a smile, though all the dark-haired man could see were teeth - and said, "Ah! You're awake."

"Um..." Xander replied tactfully, "... good morning...?"

"Good morning, indeed," the man/creature said. His voice seemed friendly enough, but Xander had heard demons with less of a rumbling voice box. "I despaired in thinking you'd ever wake up. Your fever broke some time last night, and considering our dear Logan's healing factor which I believe you've inherited, I thought you'd be up and about within the hour. Perhaps it has to do with whatever caused your bout of unconsciousness. I-"

"'Scuse me," Xander cut in abruptly, after he realized that the man probably wouldn't stop talking on his own, "Who are you?"

"Ah, my manners. I'm terribly sorry." Xander hadn't realized someone with fur could blush. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Dr. Henry McCoy, the doctor, physician, and general health inspector for this facility. And you, from what my young friend told me," he indicated Bobby's sleeping form, "are Xander. Though I'd appreciate it if you could, perhaps, inform me as to the rest of your name."

"Alexander Lavelle Harris, sir," the dark-haired mutant responded in surprise. __This__ was the man, or rather, mutant, whom Willow idolized and insisted was one of the greatest minds of the century. He'd expected someone a little more... conventional. Then again, this was the home of the X-men. Still, for Willow's idol to be a giant blue teddy bear... he cleared his throat and said, "Nice to meet you, Dr. McCoy."

The doctor smiled again and responded kindly, "Please, everyone here calls me Henry or Hank. Or," he glanced pointedly at Bobby who'd begun to stir and continued, "Hank-man, Hankmeister, the Furry Blue Wonder, Sir. Hanksalot..."

"... you forgot Hanky-Panky..." said a sleepy voice.

"Ah, can't have that, can we?" The doctor said good-naturedly. "Good morning, Bobby."

"...mornin'... can I sleep some more...?"

"Certainly, my lethargic young friend, but you'd best wake up within the next half-hour or you'll be late for class."

"... m'kay..."

Turning back to Xander, Henry said, "Anyway, Alexander, please feel free to call me Hank."

Against his will, the dark-haired man felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. "All right, Hank, but only if you promise to call me Xander."

"Done. Now," Henry turned to one of the computers, scanned over some data, and said, "You seem to be fine for the moment, so there's no reason to keep you here. I did several scans on you last night, which will need to be examined further, but until I require you again, you're free to go."

"Thanks, doc," Xander smiled. "Anything else?"

A pair of bright blue eyes leveled with his own, and a more serious voice replied, "If you feel __any__ dizziness or nausea, no matter how trivial it may seem to you, I must insist you come directly to me. Are we clear, young man?"

"Yeesh!" the dark-haired mutant made a face. "If you insist."

"I do." Abruptly the levity returned to Henry's voice. "Robert spends a lot of time down here with me. It's his refuge from the rest of this school, I suppose. If you feel the need to get away, you're more than welcome here anytime, Xander."

"Thank you, Hank." Xander slid off the bed and headed for the door. A soft-spoken, "You're welcome," reached his ears, and feeling more himself than he'd been since he first arrived, he grinned and headed back to his room.

It was still early in the morning so he managed to avoid running into any students. Even if he had run into them, he didn't think he'd mind. Bobby was willing to befriend him, and Hank was like a godsend. He didn't think anything could bring him down.

As he rounded another corner, he heard voices coming from behind one of the closed doors. He was about to pass by when he heard his name mentioned, and curiously he pressed his ear against the door. He recognized Jean's voice immediately, and his nose told him Scott and Storm were there as well; however, he couldn't place the last mutant's smell. He supposed it was someone he hadn't met.

o

Jean sighed and leaned against Scott. "I don't know, Scott. I just... I mean, Xander's not a bad guy. He hasn't been anything but polite to me, but it feels like... oh, I don't know... it feels as though he's stolen something from me."

Both she and Scott sat on the bed. Ororo stood by the window and Warren sprawled across the couch. Jean had asked them to meet in the room she and Scott shared because she felt that they all needed to talk about why Xander bothered them. The first step to dealing with a problem, after all, was to understand it.

Slowly, Storm nodded. "I agree. His power is not an easy one to accept."

Warren rolled his eyes. "For fucksake, just come out and say it. You resent him. I think we all do."

The telepath closed her eyes. "I do resent him. The ability to __learn__ mutant powers? I... we... we're special, you know? We're a team made up of all our different talents, and then he comes along and he's going to be just like us, only he's not __anything__ like us."

"I don't understand him," Scott said softly. "I've been dealing with mutants all of my life, but when I look him in the eyes, I can't read anything. It's like he's empty."

Storm shook her head. "I've never met anyone like him before either. And I think I fear him a little as well."

Warren stretched his wings out. "You all put it so nicely. I __don't__ feel bad about it; I just don't like him, period."

"It's hard, Warren." Jean sighed again, snuggling closer to Scott. "I just wish he would go away."

The conversation continued on, though the gist of what had been voiced was perfectly clear. On the other side of the door, Xander scrubbed at his eyes and quietly made his way back to his room.

o

The rest of the day seemed to trickle by, molasses slow. Xander avoided everyone; both the exercises Logan had taught him, and his natural instincts from having a hyena-spirit locked inside his head enabled him to move through the estate like a ghost. For the most part, he hid in his room, trying his best to ignore their voices. He covered his ears, but thanks to his advanced hearing, their whispers, even those on the other side of the mansion, overwhelmed him.

"... isn't John so __cute__? He's so, like, bad-boy, but still..."

"... today's homework will be a written essay on why you believe humans and mutants should work together..."

"... did you see that guy Mr. Logan brought back..."

"... no way, man. We should play basketball! It's better than dumb old football any day..."

"... yeah, right, like I have any interest in someone like __that__..."

_/ ... I hope he notices me... /_

"... if your grades slip anymore, Peter, I think you'd need take the class again..."

_/ ... please please please let me get an A, I have to get an A... /_

"... so, just ignore him, right?..."

_/ ... Rogue said he's a dick, but he seems okay to me... /_

"... open your textbooks to page 42..."

_/ ... Professor Summers is __so__ dreamy... /_

_/ ... please notice me... /_

_/ ... have to get an A... /_

_/ ... is this right? ... /_

_/ ... notice me... /_

_/ ... need ... /_

_/ ... help ... /_

_/ ... someone... /_

_/ ... please... /_

It was too late. By the time he realized he was hearing their thoughts, not just their words, the voices in their heads had already drowned out his own.

o

It was some time later when he came to awareness. He tried to sit up, only to find he was strapped, rather tightly, to a cold, metal bed. He tried to call out, but his voice refused to get past the block in his throat. Feeling limited, he looked at his surroundings. Metal walls, metal ceiling, and call it a hunch, metal floor as well, though he couldn't quite look over the end of the bed to see it. There was nothing else in the room save the bed and himself.

He wondered where he was and how he'd gotten there. He didn't __see__ any doors, but then, if he were a prisoner here, why would they make it that easy to escape? A few of his other senses perked up - there was a curious odor emanating from an air duct in the corner, and a few muted whispers reached to him from beyond the walls.

As he tried to call out again, a panel on the far wall slid open and a man stepped through. The door slid shut behind him with an audible click. The man's grin was that of a lunatic, so wide it seemed to spread from ear to ear.

His voice was a rumble as he asked, "Do you have any questions for me?"

The knot in his throat uncoiled. The man made his skin crawl, and he stared through hateful eyes, but he __did__ have a question. Swallowing back the bile, he whispered, "Who am I?"

If possible, the man's grin got even wider.

o


	7. Confrontations Overdue

Title: The Dopplegang Effect

Author: Becka

Chapter 07: Confrontations Overdue

o

Xander shot up from his spot on the couch, breathing hard. Unseeing eyes darted around the study until they came to rest on Professor Xavier.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Alexander," the Professor said in a gentle voice.

"Did'ja miss me?" Xander's mouth quipped automatically.

The older man smiled softly. "Of course. You gave us a rather nasty scare, you know. Logan found you and brought you to me. And Henry informed me of your blackout last night... I must confess, I feared something like this might happen."

The dark-haired man swung his legs off the couch and stood unsteadily. "What-" A momentary wave of dizziness hit him and he quickly sat back down. He cleared his throat, which felt as though he'd been unsuccessfully trying to swallow gravel, and tried again. "What happened? I mean..." He remembered hearing voices in his head, which seemed a sure sign, to himself at least, that he'd finally gone around the bend.

"You're not crazy, Alexander," the Professor said mildly. He ignored the reproachful look Xander gave him and continued, "And before you ask, while I am a telepath, I didn't need that to tell me what's going on in your head right now. I thought the same thing when __my__ gift manifested itself."

"Gift?" Xander repeated stupidly. "You call __that__ a __gift__?"

"I do." A steely note that Xander had never heard before crept into Xavier's voice. "Both you and I, and all the mutants at this school, have something that most people on this planet do not. It may be difficult at times, but simply __having__ our respective talents is a gift. And a responsibility, as well."

"I never took well to responsibility. He and I don't mix," the dark-haired man snapped back. "And if losing myself -" _/metal walls, metal ceiling, metal floor, who am I?/_ "- in everyone else's thoughts is a __gift__..."

Xavier held up a hand and Xander swallowed back the rest of his statement. The older man said gently, "It is difficult, Alexander. Believe me when I tell you I understand. However, everything comes down to control. Once you've learned to block out the voices, you may find you've changed your mind about your gifts."

"Speaking of voices..." Xander turned his head to the side, eyes narrowing marginally. "... why can't I hear them now?"

"I'm blocking you for the moment. I'll teach you the basics of control tonight; Logan has assured me you're a fast learner. And tomorrow, you'll have another lesson with Jean. Now..." Xavier leaned forward a little, his eyes focused intently on Xander, "... let's begin."

o

If Xander thought construction was tiring work, then the lesson that Professor Xavier gave him could only be classified as grueling. For three hours __straight__, he struggled to understand what the Professor was trying to teach him. It was just like his high school days; he didn't think he'd ever get it. At the end of that time, his shielding was shaky at best.

That all changed when Xavier had asked him to try and examine his own mental shields. Much to his shock, Xander had found he was able to read his mentor's mind even __when__ his shields were firmly in place. As a result, he was able to see __exactly__ how the Professor created his shields and managed to replicate them flawlessly.

Xavier had told him, quite firmly, that while he may be able to look into the minds of others with stunning ease, it was an unwritten rule among telepaths that to enter another person's mind without their express permission was strictly forbidden. Then, in a quiet tone, he told Xander that he'd never even __heard__ of a telepath who could move through shields as though they weren't even there, and that when someone tried to read another person's thoughts by force, it usually resulted in excruciating pain, leaving the unwilling participant in a vegetable-like state.

A second, slightly more disturbing revelation had hit him when he reached out to touch the Professor's mind again. It seemed that not only could he get past the older mutant's shielding, but the Professor wasn't even aware of him doing it. Remembering the rules about privacy, he quickly pulled his mind away.

They ended the lesson soon after. Xavier seemed pleased, but Xander knew he'd frightened the older man. It wasn't surprising; he frightened himself as well.

o

The next morning, he was rudely awakened by insistent knocking on his bedroom door. Groaning, he called, "Who is it?"

"Jean," came the curt response.

Xander briefly wondered what made the woman seek him out when she'd been doing her best to avoid him over the few days he'd been there. Then he remembered the Professor had mentioned something about a lesson. He wondered how she felt about it, and cautiously, he touched her mind.

_/ Just like __that!__ He's been here, what, three days, and he's already picked up the Professor's mutation? It's. Not. Fair. /_

He quickly pulled back. The bitterness of her thoughts left a bad taste in his mouth, and he wondered if there was any way to get out today's lesson.

"Fat chance..." he muttered. He rolled out of bed, pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and opened the door.

Jean stared at him in surprise, her hand poised to knock on the door again.

"So, where to?" Xander kept his voice as neutral as possible.

"My lab. I'd also like to run a few tests to see if you've picked up any telekinesis." Her mouth tightened a little bit, as if she seemed to find the very thought distasteful.

Xander plastered a smiled on his face and responded cheerfully, "Lead the way."

o

The testing was... unpleasant. Xander simply couldn't find the will to try very hard when all he had to do was lower his shields just a little for her poisonous thoughts to slip through. He grudgingly admitted that the lesson __was__ fairly informative. Even if the fact that he wasn't able to move a spoon more than an inch across the table seemed to give Jean a strange satisfaction.

When she began to test his shields, though, he was able to take some perverse pleasure in her frustrations.

"For not having been a telepath for very long, your shields are... amazing." Jean frowned slightly.

"Yeah," Xander said, bitterness creeping into his voice. "Just like the Professor's, right?"

The redhead looked up sharply, her brow furrowing, "That's exactly what I was thinking."

"Yeah," the dark-haired youth closed his eyes, bile rising in his throat. He didn't want to share this with her, but after almost five hours of her picking him apart, he couldn't help himself. "Yeah, I know."

Before the older woman could say anything, Xander stood up. "I... I have to go now, Mrs. Summers. It was nice talking with you."

Recognizing the escape for what it was, Jean stood as well, holding her hands up. "Wait a minute, Xander, I think it's important-"

"-to talk about this. We're not really sure what to think and it's important that we understand this before we go any further," he finished the sentence for her, verbatim. "Yeah, Mrs. Summers. It's important, isn't it?" His eyes narrowed a little, and for a moment Jean was reminded of the way Logan treated Scott. Contempt for authority. Minimal respect because he didn't feel it was earned. And bitterness for... something.

She tried to say something, anything, but the only thing that came to mind was the conversation she, Scott, Hank, Ororo, and Warren had the night before. Her eyes widened a little when she saw Xander's bitter smile.

"I know, Mrs. Summers," he said, eyes downcast. "I know what you guys said about me yesterday... even if I wasn't standing outside the door, I could have felt your hearts, heard your minds from across the country. I think you've made it perfectly clear what you think of me. And while I did promise the Professor I'd stay for at least four more days, I don't think there's anything I can say that would make you change your mind about me. So, if you'll excuse me..."

Jean reacted. She didn't think, she didn't reason, she just reached into Xander's mind in a way that would have been construed as rape should it have taken place in the physical realm. She was embarrassed and angry, and she couldn't understand this strange boy no matter how hard she tried. So instead of following the rules, she tried to take what she wanted to know from Xander's mind. She wasn't gentle or careful. She was like a bull, rage blotting out everything but her own bitter resentment of the boy.

But the first memory she pulled from his mind hit her and before she knew what was happening, she'd been pulled in, powerless to -

_/"Please, dad, please-"_

_"Don't you talk to me like that, boy. Don't you ever-"_

_- a flash of leather, and pain that bit into his skin - _

_"-stop it! Please, stop!"_

_"Shut the fuck up. Show respect to your father -"_

_- blood, thick in the air, on the walls, on the floor - _

_"... please..."_

_"Dammit all. Shut UP!"_

_- something shoved in his mouth, pressing against the back of his throat, silencing the soft, pathetic pleas - _

_"You want it, boy. Fucking slut, just like the fucking bitch that whelped you-"_

_"-waste of space. Only one thing you're good for-"_

_"-just like your bitch mother-"_

_"That's it, boy. Fuck. So tight-"_

_"-so hot, so tight-"_

_"-fucking-"_

_"-slut/_

With a startled cry, Jean fell to the floor. She stared up with wide, horrified eyes at the boy, no older than twenty. His eyes were hard.

"I don't know much about all this stuff... but I think you could have killed me just then. Please don't ever do that again, Mrs. Summers." He turned on his heel and headed for the door.

"...wait..." Her throat was so dry she had difficulty even choking out just the one word.

"For what, Mrs. Summers? I know everything you're going to say, and it doesn't change a thing. You're supposed to be a telepath... I think there's some rule or something the professor mentioned about privacy. And about tearing other people's minds open." He didn't turn around.

"... how can you... do that...?" She pushed herself up to a sitting position gingerly.

"Read your mind when your shields are up? Easy. Yesterday I met a girl who could walk through walls."

She shivered, frightened at the implication in his words, but as he walked away, she didn't try to stop him.

_/Jean!/_ the professor's horrified voice gently reached out to touch her mind. The little tendril of thought flinched away from her as he saw what she'd done, as well as what she'd seen.

Without looking up, Jean pressed her hands to her face and began to cry.

o

Xander stalked through the halls, breathing heavily. Several students stared at him, but he wasn't in any mood to deal with them. That __woman__, that fucking __bitch__ had seen his father.

He knew she didn't like him. She resented him. Fine, whatever. And he knew that her influence was the same as Rogue's; people would follow her because she was respected. Fine, he could deal with that. But for her to just rip into his mind and pull up one of his most personal memories... he didn't think he'd ever forgive her for that.

He bumped into someone. A quick glance revealed it to be Warren Worthington. They'd never met, but he'd seen the winged man around the school. Beyond that, he recognized the man's scent as the person who'd been most vocal in voicing his dislike of Xander the other night. Without apologizing, he walked away. He didn't want to deal with anyone, and certainly not with someone who'd formed hateful opinions of him without ever having met him.

His feet led him outside. He didn't care where; he just wanted to get away.

His thoughts turned back to Jean. No one was supposed to know about his father. He'd kept it a secret from Willow and Jesse when they were kids, from Buffy and the rest of the Scoobies when he got older. His teachers just thought he was clumsy, and NO ONE WAS SUPPOSED TO __KNOW__.

Xander was so focused on his anger that he didn't realize he was having another attack until he found himself face down in the dirt. He felt a sharp pain in his chest that spread to his back. It wasn't like anything he'd ever experienced before; the only thing that came close was when his father had stamped a cigar along his spine. He couldn't even scream.

Mercifully, he blacked out.

o


	8. A Matter of Self

Title: The Dopplegang Effect

Author: Becka

Chapter 08: A Matter of Self

o

"Come in, Scott." Henry's voice rumbled at the tentative knock on his door.

Scott Summers entered silently, closing the door behind him. "You wanted to see me?" He asked.

The blue man nodded solemnly. "You did inform me you wanted to know about Xander's mutation, did you not?"

"I did," the sandy-haired man replied.

"For lack of a better term, his mutation is... phenomenal." Henry's eyes scanned the computer screens rapidly. "I can't isolate it, but I can tell you that the boy isn't simply picking up mutations haphazardly. His DNA is actually __restructuring__ itself each time it feels a strong genetic pull, so to speak."

Scott stared at his teammate. "You mean... every time he meets a mutant, his DNA changes to incorporate their power?"

Henry nodded. "Not just mutants, Scott, though I believe those are probably the easiest for him to pick up because the genetic variations are so prominent. But his mutation won't recognize the difference between a power like yours and, say for example, a cancer. __Anything__ with a genetic pull is going to register, and his DNA will mutate accordingly. He can't pick and choose as to what is beneficial and what is harmful."

At Scott's dawning horror, Henry continued, "And because Logan's healing ability is one of the first he picked up, his body will most likely tear itself apart in the long run. His DNA could contract a cancer or some such disease, and his healing ability will try to destroy it."

"That's..." The light-haired man couldn't find any words to describe how he felt at that moment. Finally he asked, "Is there anything else I should be aware of?"

"I should say so," the doctor answered. "Xander's mutation was meant to adapt to a single ability at a time. Then, once it has fully incorporated one, it can move onto the next with his newly altered DNA. Now that he's been exposed to so many mutations at this institute, his body is under rather severe strain, to put it mildly. He's being pulled in so many different directions that his body can't cope. __That__ is what's causing his blackouts and seizures."

Scott felt helpless. He and his team had been less than welcoming, resenting Xander for what he could do. Now that he'd found the price of the man's powers, he wished he could go back and change how things had developed. Xander needed people to care about him and support him. In theory, everyone at the school should have done so. But after seeing the way Warren, Storm, Jean, and himself had treated Xander, nearly all of the younger students had followed their example. The light-haired man now realized how Xander had become a wraith of the man who had first come to the institute for help. He would only talk to the Professor, Logan, Henry, and Bobby. More than fifty mutants lived at the school, and Xander could talk to four of them. Scott wondered how he'd let things get so out of hand.

"If... if Xander left the school, would that solve the problem?"

Scott's heart sank when Henry shook his head. "Unlikely. He's already been exposed to all of our mutations, so his DNA is going to try and incorporate them no matter where he is. And if we move him, it's possible he might run into other mutants, or even someone with a genetic disease."

The light-haired man swallowed hard. His voice was hoarse. "Nothing we do will help, will it?"

Henry sighed and turned back to the computer screen. "It's possible if we can duplicate the collars that inhibit mutant powers, we might be able to buy ourselves a little more time. But at the same time, it's also possible that if we try to put his mutation on pause, it could kill him. I'm working on a way to screen other mutations, that is, to keep his DNA from registering them, but even if I am able to, the mutations he's picked up here aren't going to stop until he's incorporated them all." The blue man glanced at Scott. "Or died trying."

Slowly, Scott sank into one of the chairs. He felt ill. "Is there __anything__ I can do?"

"Just look out for him, Scott." Henry cleared his throat uneasily. "I don't know how our various mutations are going to mesh. The Professor mentioned that because Xander met Kitty, that is, the little girl who can walk through walls, he's actually able to read the minds of other telepaths even when their shields are up. So it's possible that Logan's unique chemistry might allow him to control your lasers without the use of a visor. Then again, it might not. It's also possible that even though Warren's actual wings were removed, his DNA might still pass them to Xander. Again, it might not. He might grow hair like mine or a tail like our little German teleporter. He might be able to turn into metal or ice, like Piotr or Bobby, or just toss them around __without__ the need for a transformation. Anything is possible, Scott. I can't even begin to predict the changes that young man will go through. It's even possible that because he's a telepath, he might not even have to meet other mutants to learn their powers. Who knows?" The doctor paused, then pinched the bridge of his nose. "All I can say, Scott, is that whatever happens, he's going to need someone to support him. With what his DNA knows already, and what it will learn in the future, that young man could tear this world apart. If he doesn't have someone to guide him, he very well may."

Scott stood. "I think I failed him already, Hank, but I'll do whatever it takes to fix my mistakes. Have you told him this, yet?"

"No. I think it should come from someone he trusts. Logan should be here any minute." Henry didn't even glance up from the screen, and Scott heard the dismissal clearly.

"Goodnight, Henry."

"Goodnight, Scott."

o

Xander wasn't really sure how long he'd been out for. He didn't know if anyone had seen him, though he doubted it as he was still in the middle of the woods and not being coddled in Hank's lab. All he knew was that everything hurt.

Instinct took hold of him, and he somehow managed to make his way back to his room. It was the safest place he could think to go, and like an injured animal, all he wanted to do was hide and lick his wounds.

o

Logan stalked through the hallways silently. Hank had told him the true nature of Xander's mutation, and it made him sick. All he could think was that __he__ had brought his friend to this place. And with the potential combination of the powers of every X-man, X-woman, and X-child, Xander would probably become the strongest mutant the world had ever seen.

_/No one should have that much power. It's more than "mutant." It's... inhuman./_

That was, if he survived.

_/Hank says this mutation could kill him. Too many mutants, too many powers, too many genetic variations- bein' here could kill him./_

But Xander wasn't inhuman. Xander had the purest heart of anyone Logan had ever met before. It was only his powers that made him so... horrifying. Powers that he wouldn't have if Logan had never brought him to Xavier's Institute.

_/I brought him here./_

He remembered when he'd first met Xander. How their relationship had transformed from traveling companions to the solid friendship that had shocked the older man.

_/I can't remember the last time I've been this close to anyone. I can't remember the last person who made me feel like this. He... understands me./_

Logan wasn't used to being understood.

_/I brought him here./_

He didn't think that Xander was, either.

_/He's fighting off the demons in his head and everyone else's now that he's picked up the Professor's telepathy. My healing factor. Jason's fire. The ability to walk through walls. He's a fuckin' angel of death./_

That much power wasn't meant to be controlled. Xander had once told him he wasn't anything special; now he housed more power in his body than anyone, human or mutant, had the right to.

_/I did this ta him./_

Logan wasn't used to being afraid, either.

_/I brought him here./_

He was used to fixing his mistakes, but he didn't know how he could fix this.

_/When he an' I were out on the road, he was __fine__. I brought him here ta help him./_

He was used to having an enemy that he could fight, and ultimately kill.

_/... I brought him here, an' it might kill him./_

He couldn't kill Xander.

_/An' now.../ _

He couldn't even think about hurting Xander.

_/... I have ta tell him that./_

Because all he wanted to do was to protect him.

A hint of blood, freshly spilled, assaulted his nose, and with a start, he realized it was coming from Xander's room. He resisted the urge to panic and instead knocked on the door.

"Xander?"

There was no answer.

Slowly, he opened the door and stepped inside.

Xander was curled into a ball on his bed. Tears streaked his face, and the blood Logan smelled was on the pillow; Xander had bitten through his own lip to keep from screaming. With a soft curse, the older man sat on the bed and wrapped his arms around his friend. He knew there was nothing he could do but be there. Henry had told him things would get bad, and he had been prepared. But he couldn't keep his hands from shaking.

He hugged Xander tightly and closed his eyes. And when the dark-haired man could no longer cry, Logan did it for him. He cried as a pair skeletal wings ripped through Xander's back and began to grow.

o


	9. Learning to Fly

Title: The Dopplegang Effect

Author: Becka

Chapter 09: Learning How to Fly

o

Bobby crept quietly along the hallways. He wished that he were as stealthy as Logan, because every few feet he managed to step on a loose floorboard which would creak loudly. No one had come out to see what the noise was, so he supposed everyone was sound asleep.

It was early in the morning. Much too early, in his opinion, to be up and about. But it seemed that now was the only time he'd have all day to slip away and see Xander.

After he'd brought Xander to Hank's lab, he had hardly seen the dark-haired mutant around the institute. The few glimpses he had caught had been fleeting, out of the corner of his eye, and before he'd even had the time to call out his friend's name, he was already gone. It was like Xander was a ghost or something.

All of the adults had been exceptionally tight-lipped when it came to Bobby's subtle inquiries about the dark-haired man, and the only way he'd learned __anything__ was by listening in on conversations and gossip when no one was paying attention to him.

That night they'd talked, Xander hadn't mentioned anything about his mutation, but from what Bobby had heard, he could apparently learn mutant abilities. The school had been buzzing the day before, about how Professor Summers had cancelled all of her classes, and some speculated that she was teaching Xander how to control telepathy, or maybe telekinesis.

After that, he'd begun to wonder if maybe the reason Xander had blacked out on him was because he'd learned Bobby's ice power. The thought of having someone to love the cold with him excited him a little bit. In fact, he'd briefly entertained the notion of both of them iced up, playing in a bank of snow in the summer.

So now he was on a mission to find his friend. He missed talking to him, though they'd only shared the one conversation, so he crossed his fingers and hoped that Xander was in his room.

Bobby was so lost in these thoughts, and in trying not to make anymore floorboards creak, that he didn't notice a pair of bright green eyes following him as he walked through the halls.

o

Rogue's eyes narrowed as they followed Bobby. He was actually going to do it! He was going to ignore everything she'd told him and visit that... that __man__!

It had been bad enough when __he'd__ arrived at the Institute. After all, if anyone deserved to travel with Logan, it was her! She and Logan had something... special. When he'd saved her life, she'd absorbed some of his memories and feelings. She __knew__ he cared about her; he'd risked his life to save her, after all. And she knew how lonely he was. She wanted nothing more than to be there for him. And then that__man__, Xander, had just waltzed right in from nowhere and taken Logan away from her.

Xander couldn't possibly understand how Logan felt. He couldn't possibly be there for the older man like she could. If Logan would only just give her the chance, she knew she could prove that what she felt - and what she knew he felt for her - was something profound.

But every time she tried to talk to Logan, __he__ was always in the way!

And now Bobby, her own __boyfriend__, was neglecting her in favor of Xander! It was simply unforgivable.

If only she could catch Xander by himself, she could touch him and find out what was so great about him. She wondered if maybe he had a mutant charm power or something. That, at least, would explain why the two most important people in her life seemed to be drawn to him.

Shaking her head, she decided to retire to her room for the rest of the morning. He supposedly had attacks, or something. Maybe she could catch him off-gaurd during one of those...

o

Bobby knocked softly on Xander's door. There was no answer, so he opened it and peeked inside, hoping that his friend was sleeping.

He did __not__ expect to see both Xander and Logan, curled up against each other on the bed with Xander's wings gently folded around both of them like a giant, feathery blanket.

The sandy-haired boy let out a startled cry. Okay, he could deal with Xander in the same bed with Logan, even if he'd never thought of the older mutant as a cuddler. However, his eyes widened marginally when he managed to wrap his mind around the fact that Xander had __wings__.

It was most likely that he'd managed to pick up Warren's original mutation, before Sinister had gotten a hold of him and torn the millionaire's natural wings off, replacing them with metal likenesses. Bobby had never seen Warren's original wings, though. He wondered if they made him look like as much of an angel as they did for Xander.

Apparently his soft cry was more than enough to wake Xander and Logan, because both jerked upright. Xander's wings fluttered uncertainly, and Logan's claws were out before Bobby even had time to blink. The sandy-haired mutant raised his hands in an age-old gesture of peace and he quickly shut the door behind him.

"Sorry," he said, and he watched the sleep clear from Xander's eyes. Logan grunted and retracted his claws.

"Bobby!" The newly-winged man smiled. "Hey, man. What's up?"

Bobby tried to keep his eyes from staring at Xander's bare chest. It wasn't working. He relied on his trusty Bobby-babble to see him through. "Hey, Xan. You haven't, y'know, been around much, and I kinda' kiss... MISSED you, so I figured I'd stop by. Before my classes and stuff, I mean, 'cause every time I do see you, you never stick around long enough for me to get more than two words out of my mouth, and I figured, being friends and all, I should come and see you, 'cause I overheard the Hankmeister talking to the Professor about how you collapsed again, and I wanted to stop by and wish you the chest. Best!" he blushed.

Xander's brow quirked, but he otherwise ignored Bobby's slip-ups. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw the corner of Logan's mouth twitch, too.

"So... um..." Bobby coughed. "... wings?" He swallowed, then asked, "Can I... I mean, could I... touch them...?"

His friend laughed. "Sure, Bobby. You can touch them. I'm still kind of getting used to the fact that they're there."

Bobby glided forward, reaching out a hand to pet the most unbelievably soft feathers he'd ever encountered. "Wow," he said, awed. "Warren is going to be __so__ jealous."

Xander blinked. "Why? You mean, because I have feather wings and he has metal ones?"

Logan spoke up for the first time since Bobby entered the room. "He used ta have wings like that, 'fore Sinister tore 'em off."

"Someone... tore them off?" There was horror in Xander's voice.

"Yeah," the older mutant continued tonelessly. "Replaced them with those metal wings he has now..."

"Great." Xander sighed as Bobby continued to stroke his wings. "Another reason for the guy to hate me."

The sandy-haired mutant said offhandedly, "It probably wouldn't be such a big deal if Warren still had his actual wings."

"Oh?" Xander got a speculative look in his eyes, but before Bobby or Logan could press the issue, he stood and reached for one of his shirts. He frowned slightly.

"Um..." The winged mutant turned pleading eyes to his two friends. "... how do I put this on?"

o

A gentle mind-probe revealed to Xander that not only was Warren awake, but he was sitting by himself on the roof. Thankfully, it was still early enough that he didn't run into anyone on his way there. He had enough problems with them alternately staring at him, then ignoring him, that he didn't want to deal with any issue his new wings might create.

He had __wings__.

It was surreal, in a way. He had wings, and he could feel them. He could move them with the same mindless ease it took to move his arms. And something inside him told him that if he spread them, he could __fly__.

The pain he'd felt last night was still fresh in his mind, but even so, he knew that everything he'd gone through had been worth it. When he was a kid, he had dreams about being able to fly. Now he had wings. He felt as though he was still dreaming. Like maybe, he was going to wake up in the basement of his father's house at any moment and find that all this had been nothing more than his subconscious playing tricks on him.

He managed to shake that feeling by the time he reached the roof. There was something he had to do to make this right, even if it was all a dream. And while he had no idea __what__ he was supposed to do, he felt something pushing him forward. It was a whisper of what he'd felt when he'd first met Logan. It was change, an evolution, and just as he had done then, he rode with it.

Warren was perched on an outcropping, staring blindly off into the hazy mist where the sun would soon rise. As Xander scuffed his feet across the concrete floor, he turned his head and stared. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. It was abruptly shattered when the blonde began to laugh hysterically.

"That's __fucking__ perfect, isn't it," Warren said, shoulders shaking. "I mean, of course it is. You get wings. Five fucking days here and you get fucking __wings__. Not like these," he spread his own wings wide, and the few rays of sunlight visible caught on them and gleamed. "Nothing like these. You get the real deal. And I bet everyone's going to say it's all the same. It's all the fucking same to them because THEY. DON'T. KNOW."

"I..." Xander's voice trailed off in the heat of Warren's righteous anger.

"It's not the __same__," came the soft growled. "To fly with these... these... __perversions__... metal instead of feathers..." He swallowed and shook his head. "It's not the same at all."

"Warren-"

"Don't talk to me. Don't you __dare__ fucking talk to me," the other man replied. He spun around and launched himself off the building. His metallic wings caught a draft of wind and he glided away.

Without a second thought, Xander followed him.

They spiralled through the air like God's own angels, magnificent and ethereal. The dark-haired mutant had no concept of time. He might have been chasing Warren for an hour, or maybe only a moment had passed. All he knew was that he had to catch the blonde, and with a furious flap of his wings, he surged forward and wrapped his arms around Warren.

They spiralled through the air again, only this time they were falling. Warren tried to pull up, to free himself, but Xander's arms were locked in a death grip. They plummeted through the trees and crashed into the ground. The younger mutant managed to take most of the impact into his own body.

Warren lay still in his arms. Breathing heavily, Xander wondered if the other man was all right, but he wasn't quite ready to release his hold until he was sure the blonde wouldn't try to escape again.

"Warren...?" he whispered, feeling the older mutant's body tremble.

It only took Xander a moment to realize that the blonde was... crying.

"God damn you. God fucking __damn__ you," Warren sobbed.

The dark-haired man closed his eyes and whispered, "I'm so sorry. I'll fix this, Warren... I promise."

Xander didn't know how, but his instincts seemed to take hold of him. He gently reached into the other man's mind, into his very soul. The pain there, the pain of knowing what it was like to soar, and the pain of having that feeling ripped away from him, was one of the worst things Xander had ever felt.

He reached blindly around for those memories, when Warren had wings of feathers and flesh, and forced his mind to accept Warren's body as his own. For a moment they became one. They knew they were broken. And now, they knew how to fix it. And screaming with the pain, they did.

It was some time later that Xander returned to his own body. He found his arms were wrapped around Warren. He didn't let go, because he remembered how he'd felt when Logan had held him like this.

Around them, splinters of metal littered the ground. They were the last vestiges of the wings Sinister had given Warren. As Warren's wings had grown back, they cracked like a casing, shattering to reveal glorious feathers.

Laying there, holding the blonde man as he sobbed, Xander realized the Professor had been right. What he had, what he could do... it was a gift. He held Warren who cried joyfully for something he thought he'd never have again. His tears were those of a blind man who, for the first time in his life, had seen the sunset.

o

Spike sighed, leaning against the wall of his latest cave. He felt... inadequate. He'd been so certain he could find Xander. After all, it wasn't as though he'd expected the dark-haired man to make it very far.

This journey had been a testament of just how little he'd learned in 120 years of unlife. The first thing Angelus had taught him was never to underestimate a target, be they demon, human, or anything in the vast shades of gray in between.

His demonic visage came forward as he growled softly. He knew better. He fucking __knew__ better. After all, hadn't he been disgusted with Slutty and her following for not giving the whelp the credit he deserved? Hadn't he lived with the boy, watching while pretending not to watch, as Xander had dealt with everything his incompetent parents had dealt out?

And yet, he was guilty of the same. He'd completely ignored what he'd tried to tell Slutty and assumed that Xander wouldn't make it far enough to present him any sort of problem. He'd fully expected to find the whelp a few towns away, living his life the way he'd always done.

Briefly, he wondered if he should just give up and head back to Sunnydale. The lil' bit would be disappointed, but... after his blatant dismissal of the boy's talents, did he really __deserve__ to find Xander?

"Fuck it," he muttered. "I don' believe in you, God, an' I'm sure you have no use for me, but if you want me to keep goin', send me a fuckin' sign or somethin'."

A loud crash outside his cave startled him out of his monologue. Careful not to let any of the sunlight that filtered through the tree tops touch him, he poked his head through the mouth of the cave to see what was going on.

Two angels, wrapped in each other's arms, greeted his disbelieving eyes.

Maybe his diet of rabbit blood had gone and addled his brain. He shook his head, staring at the two winged creatures, and wondered if he'd finally lost the few threads of sanity he had left.

Both angels were beautiful beyond any standard, human or demon, but Spike had no interest in the blonde.

All his attention was focused on the angel wearing Xander's face.

He watched as the pair of metal wings shattered, leaving feathers in its wake. He watched as the dark-haired angel helped the blonde one to his feet. And he watched as they spread their wings and took to flight, noting with keen interest the direction they headed in.

He spared a single glance to the sky, and muttered, "Right bastard you are, mate. Ta."

o


	10. Snow Angels and Gentle Reminders

Title: The Dopplegang Effect

Author: Becka

Chapter 10: Snow Angels and Gentle Reminders

o

Xander perched comfortably on the roof of Xavier's Institute. He'd only restored Warren's wings that morning, but it seemed like a lifetime ago. When the two of them had flown back, they'd caused quite a commotion. There were a few female students who practically drooled all over Warren, and the Professor himself had congratulated the blonde on his feathers.

Of course, the same Professor had pushed Xander aside and told him what he'd done was stupid, irresponsible, and unbelievably dangerous. Then he'd smiled and said, "But thank you, all the same."

Jean had flinched away from him the one time he'd looked at her, and Ororo had simply ignored him. On the other hand, Scott had also thanked him, and a whispered mind-brush had assured him that the other man was truly sincere. That had surprised him, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

On the bright side, he'd finally gotten to see Jason. The young teen had reacted much the same as Bobby had, and had reverently rubbed his hands on Xander's wings. He'd also confessed that while he was having a lot of fun, he missed Xander and wanted to try and spend more time with him. __That__ had lightened the dark-haired man's mood immediately.

Now that all of that was said and done, he was happy to have a little bit of time to himself.

He stared out across the haze of treetops, and his thoughts wandered to when he'd first met Logan. Something had been pushing him then, just as something had pushed him today. It was more than just a change. Something was __growing__ inside him, and he could feel it pulsing with every breath he took.

There was another Xander in there somewhere. It shared his body and his face, but it felt... darker. It was almost like the shadow of his soul. He knew he was capable of evil. He knew that on the fine line he walked, it would only take a little stumble to push him over that boundary. But, at the same time, he also had faith in himself.

At any given time, he could give into his darker desires. His father had instilled them in him; his brief possession by the hyena had brought them out to play. But he'd always managed to hold back. He'd always managed to keep himself in check.

But whatever was pushing him was making it harder and harder to do so. Whatever it was, he felt his self-control crumbling. And the power that his body was learning, the powers he was leeching off every person in the whole damned school, were only making it worse. Because the thing inside him __knew__ he was growing, too.

And he couldn't quite shake the feeling that it was waiting for something. And __that__ was all that was holding it back.

He heard the footsteps on the stairs a good minute before the door to the roof swung open. Thankful that someone had interrupted his thoughts, he said, "Hey, old man."

"Hey, yerself, kid."

Xander turned to face his friend with a smile. "What's up?"

"Nothin' much. The whole school's talkin' 'bout what you did fer Wings..." The older man pulled out a cigar and lit it. "Can't say I blame 'em."

"Bobby gave me the idea," Xander replied.

"It's more that ya __could__ do it," Logan snorted. "Ya know how long Charlie's been tryin' ta help that boy?" He paused and puffed on his cigar thoughtfully. "Last night... I was gonna' apologize to ya fer bringin' ya here."

"What's there to apologize for?" the dark-haired man asked curiously.

"Henry told me it might kill ya. Yer DNA tryin' ta remake itself with all these mutant powers around ya."

Xander caught a hint of concern in the air, tinged heavily with remorse. He shook his head and answered, "I don't blame you, Logan."

"I brought you here, kid."

"I'm not going to die."

"Ya can't know that fer sure!"

"But I do." Xander turned his head back to stare at the trees. "I don't know what's going to happen to me, but I do know I'm not going to die." There was a quiet certainty in his voice that stopped the protest that hadn't even left Logan's mouth. The dark-haired man continued, "There's something in me, Logan. I can feel it, and maybe it's just my mutation or my own imagination getting carried away, but I can tell you right now, I'm not going to die."

He turned back to face the older man and added quietly, "But you may wish that I had."

Before Logan could question that cryptic statement, uttered with undying certainty, a loud, deafening crash caught their attention. They both were on their feet and heading towards the sound when a second, even louder crash shook the very foundation of the school.

Sirens went off, and as Xander took to the sky, he saw several panicked students running into the school. Scouring the area for whatever had caused the noise, he spotted a man in red, hovering near the entrance. Even from that distance, he could clearly make out the curve of a smile on the man's face.

Without a second thought, he flew at the man. Energy sparkled around him like a shield, almost as though the air itself was protecting him, but he was able to pass through it without a problem. He speared the man with his shoulder and sent both of them crashing to the ground.

In the background he heard voices shouting, and somehow he knew that whoever this man had brought with him was engaging the X-men in combat. He wanted to help them, but that damned impulse inside of him forced him to deal with the man he'd just tackled. He couldn't fight it; before he hadn't wanted to, but now that he was trying, he realized he couldn't. It simply wouldn't let him.

"What the fuck's going on here?" he asked no one in particular as he hauled himself to his feet and stared at the man in red. He didn't really expect an answer.

The man raised his arm and Xander felt something behind him. As he ducked, one of the Institute's benches soared over his head and crashed into the fence. He glared at the man and asked, "Who the fuck are you?"

"Eric Lenscher. You may call me Magneto." The man smiled as Xander dodged out of the way of another projectile, this time a piece of the gutter.

"Whatever, man. Could you stop throwing shit at me?"

"As you wish." Magneto smiled as the gutter writhed like a snake and wrapped itself around Xander's body, immobilizing his arms and pinning his wings to his back.

The older man made another gesture with his hands and he lifted away from the ground, towing Xander's inert body behind him. The sound behind them stopped and the dark-haired man supposed that now that they had him in custody, they could just make a hasty retreat.

He'd fought beside Buffy for years. He'd battled everything the Hellmouth had to offer, taken a bite out of it, and spit it back out. Occasionally screaming like a little girl, but nonetheless... Xander's eyes narrowed. The point was, if this Magneto character thought he was just going to come quietly, he was __sorely__ mistaken.

The air around him seemed to drop in temperature. He didn't know what he was doing, but __something__ was guiding him. His body began to tingle, and when Magneto paused and turned, as if sensing the change, he let it __OUT__.

The gutter around him cracked and warped, and with a powerful flap of his wings, it shattered. Where Xander had been, an angel of ice now poised, ready to strike. Crystalline wings glittered in the fading sunlight, prisms of pure color. Before he could attack, though, he heard Magneto murmur, very softly, "Well done, boy."

With a gesture to his henchmen on the ground, Magneto turned and fled, leaving a very confused Xander midair.

The cold slowly seeped away from his body as he stared after the tiny dot that was Magneto. He bit his lip, unsure whether to pursue or to head back to the Institute. After a moment, he heard a voice from the ground, calling his name.

Looking down, he spotted a familiar bleached-blonde head, one that he hadn't seen for almost a year. _/Fuck Magneto,/_ he thought to himself, fighting to keep the smile off his face.

"Oi, whelp, y'gonna come down an' say 'allo to your old mate, or what?"

"Shut up, fangless," he called back as he spiraled down to greet Spike.

o

Together, they headed back to Xavier's Institute. The sun was low enough in the sky that the trees provided plenty of shade for the vampire until it finally set. There were several questions on both of their minds, and Xander finally caved and broke the silence, asking, "What the hell are you doing here, Spike?" The real question, should the vampire choose to read between the lines, was whether or not Spike was alone, or if Buffy or Willow or Giles was lurking out there somewhere.

The blonde answered simply, "Felt like takin' a road trip, I did. Thought I'd get away from Slutty and co. and look ya up. See what you been doin' with yourself." He snickered softly and jerked his thumb towards Xander's wing. "You an angel, now, whelp? Not gonna turn into a nancy boy on me, are you?"

"You're just jealous 'cause I can fly," Xander replied snarkily.

"The air up there gone to your head, mate?" Spike responded with a reproachful look. "I'm jus' wonderin' if you're gonna start spoutin' bad poetry and shootin' unsuspectin' blokes like me with plastic arrows."

"Jealous," the dark-haired man grinned.

"Don't you, 'jealous' me, whelp. Lookin' out for me best interest. Not too keen on pullin' an arrow out o' my bum, ta very much."

Xander snickered. He hated to admit it, but he'd actually missed this - in a sad, twisted sort of way. The vampire's banter could take his mind off of just about anything, and lately, he had to agree with Spike's snarky observation. He __had__ been brooding, full out Angel-style. All he needed was some hair gel and he could change his name to Deadboy Jr.

"So," the vampire pulled out a cigarette, "'sides the wings, what's up?" He proceeded to pat his pockets for a lighter.

"Not too much," Xander said. He took Spike's cigarette, lit it with the tip of his finger, and took a drag before casually passing it back to the stunned blonde. He made a mental note to thank Jason when they got back; the look on Spike's face was fucking __priceless__.

Spike regarded Xander with interest and finally said, "That mean I owe you a blowjob, or what?"

The dark-haired man spluttered for a moment, then laughed. The sound rang through the quiet forest like music. Trying not to choke on his own words, he said, "Jesus Spike. I didn't know you missed me."

Shrugging, the blonde responded, "That, or seven years o' sex. Never could figure out how you humans come up with such crap..."

"Oh. I'm not one of those anymore," Xander said offhandedly. He covertly studied the blonde's response.

"Figured that one out already, mate. M'not a complete git like you, y'know." Spike actually sounded somewhat offended.

They walked in silence for a few minutes as the vampire smoked his cigarette. Just as the blonde opened his mouth to say something, Xander abruptly said, "No!"

The vampire started, giving his friend a funny look. He asked, "What?"

"No, I'm not going to wear a loincloth." The dark-haired man grimaced at the image he'd haphazardly picked up from Spike's mind. "Why you'd even want to see me in that outfit Cupid wears on Xena is __totally__ beyond me, and I don't think I wanna' go there!"

Spike blinked and opened his mouth again.

Xander cut him off a second time. "And before you ask, yeah, I __am__ psychic. Bite me."

The vampire looked as though he was going to say something, then apparently thought better of it. The rest of their trip was made in silence.

o

"He's __never__ done that before," Ororo said, her voice shrill. She was badly shaken by Magneto's attack on the institute, as they all were.

Logan growled, "Obviously there's never been anythin' he wanted bad enough 'afore, darling. An' my question is __why__ we aren't out tryin' ta find Xander?"

Quietly, Scott said, "The Professor said to wait, so we wait."

Jean was silent, but she nibbled her lip. The words, _/I just wish he'd go away,/_ looped in her mind.

"Well, I'm thinkin' Charlie's a bit more blinded by his ol' pal than anyone wants to admit."

"Surprisingly," Warren said, "I'm actually with Logan on this one. We should be looking for Xander."

"Aw, Angel! I didn't know you cared," Xander exclaimed from the doorway. There was an audible silence, then everyone began talking at once.

"Jesus, Xan!"

"What happened?"

"Are you all right?"

"Where's Magneto?"

Xander held up his hands. "One at a time, ladies and gentleman."

Logan paused and sniffed the air. His eyes narrowed when he spotted the blonde who stood at Xander's side.

"Relax, old man," Xander slumped into one of the unoccupied chairs and waved his hand absently. "I'm fine. The old dude took off when I tried to put up a fight. Anyway, Spike, meet everyone. Everyone, meet Spike."

He groaned and closed his eyes. "And, not that I really want to know, but who the fuck is Magneto?"

Scott answered quietly, "An old friend of the Professor's. Both of them used to share the same dream, a world where humans and mutants existed in peace. I don't know the specifics, but something happened and Magneto's new dream is a world where mutants dominate humans with an iron fist. He leads a group known as the Brotherhood."

Warren jerked his head towards Spike and asked, "What's up with blondie?"

"Afraid he's gonna usurp your position as token pretty boy?" Xander said with a small grin. All the levity disappeared from his voice as he said shortly. "Vampire. He's my old roommate."

"An 'ere I thought y'forgot about me, pet." Spike studied the group through narrow eyes. His gaze finally came to rest on Logan and the two of them growled at each other.

"Vampire?" Ororo asked.

"Like, mutant vampire or psychic vampire or what?" Warren said, sizing up the blonde.

"Like, blood-sucking, killed-by-a-stake-through-the-heart vampire," Xander said.

Spike turned away from Logan for a moment and stuck out his tongue. "Don't be givin' away all me secrets, whelp." He made another face and complained, quite loudly, "I'm hungry."

"So you mean to tell me that all those myths about vampires are __real__?" Scott's voice was disbelieving.

"Not all of them. The whole garlic thing is a total lie. They can't turn into bats or fog, but crosses and sunlight hurt them. And a wooden stake through the heart is just about the only thing that will kill one, unless you decapitate him or set him on fire."

"I though it had to be silver," Jean said quietly.

"Nah," Xander replied, sparing her a glance. "Silver's good for werewolves and a couple of other demons, though." He quickly gave the group a crash course in Surviving Sunnydale 101.

"I'm hungry," Spike whinned.

Scott stared at Xander with wide eyes. "You're trying to convince us that some teenybopper with superhuman strength stakes vampires, and that werewolves are actually nice people for most of the month, and that... that __man__ behind you is a __vampire__, and you expect us to just accept that...?"

"Yeah, I do, actually. I found out vampires were real when I had to slam a piece of wood through my best friend's heart and watch him turn to dust, so I think I know what I'm talking about."

"Hungry!" the vampire said again.

"Jesus, Spike!" Xander growled, "I'm trying to talk here!"

"But I'm hungry," the blonde said with a pout. "An' unless you want me snackin' on one o' your mutie buddies, y'better find me somethin' ta eat!"

"Fine, whatever. But if you even __think__ about draining me, I'm gonna' beat the shit out of you, alright?" Xander stood and pulled out his pocketknife, slit one wrist, and shoved his arm into Spike's mouth.

There was a muted, "Mmph," which Xander took to be "Ta, mate," and the blonde's demon face came forward, thick ridges pushing out from his brow as he suckled the dark-haired man's arm. After about a minute, Spike released his hold and the ridges subsided.

Xander turned back to Scott and the rest of the group with an irritated look on his face and said, "So, what can I do to prove demons are real?"

o


	11. Moments of Truth

Title: The Dopplegang Effect

Author: Becka

Chapter 11: Moments of Truth

o

After everything had died down, Xander invited Spike up to his room. They still had a lot to talk about. He wasn't really clear on why the blonde had decided to search for him, but he was definitely sick of Logan and Spike pulling all the alpha-male crap with one another and figured the easiest way to get them to stop was to separate them.

On the other hand, he was exhausted. Offering Spike the bed, he set up a blanket and a pillow on the floor. They could talk tomorrow, after all, and while he wasn't exactly sure of what was going on in the blonde's head, he did know he wanted a full night of sleep before he dealt with it.

"Night, Spike," he mumbled, and then his head hit the pillow and Morpheus welcomed him with open arms.

o

The room was cold and hard. He wondered where he was and how he'd gotten there. The metal walls and ceiling offered him no comfort, and he stared at the blood splattered across the smooth surface.

Red dripped down his face, streaking there like a sinner's tears. The man in the corner just smiled at him. "Do you have any questions?"

He did have a question, and though the man made his skin crawl, he choked out, "Who am I?"

"My precious Doppelganger, of course," came the amused reply. Then the man threw back his head and laughed.

o

With a start, Xander jerked upright. His shirt was soaked with cold sweat and it clung unpleasantly to his body. Slowly he became aware of his surroundings. The walls were plaster, not metal. The floor was carpeted. The ceiling was painted white.

He felt two eyes on him and he turned his head to stare blindly at Spike. The vampire regarded him with strangely understanding eyes and asked, "Y'want to talk about it, pet?"

If Spike had only made a snarky comment or asked him with something __other__ than that quiet voice, so much unlike the Spike he was used to hearing, Xander would have been able to brush it all off and pretend to go back to sleep. But Spike hadn't. Somehow, he'd known exactly what to say.

Xander buried his face in his hands, and whispered helplessly, "I... I don't know who I am anymore, Spike."

"You're Xander Harris, pet. Y'got a wicked sense o' humor and you're one o' the bloody bravest mortals I ever met." Spike answered without missing a beat.

The dark-haired man shook his head. "That's not it. I mean, back home I was just Xander Harris. I fought demons, but I wasn't anything special. And now I look at myself in the mirror and I can't help it. The first thing that crosses my mind is, 'Who are you? Who the fuck are you and why are you wearing my face?' I used to be the fucking donut boy. Now I have __wings__, Spike, and I can spread them and __fly__. And I can __hear__ them in my head, and they fucking hate me. Like I asked for this, like I'm stealing their powers on purpose."

Spike was silent.

The mutant bit his lip. "It scares me, Spike. It scares me so fucking much, because somehow I __know__ what they're capable of. I __know__ how to use these powers and combine them and make them do things I shouldn't be able to do. I gave Warren back his wings. I became an angel of ice."

He began to shake, so he wrapped his arms around himself and tried to keep the stutter from his voice. "It hurts. It hurts so fucking bad. It's like my body's tearing itself apart to make something new. And every time it does, every time I look in the mirror afterwards, I see me slipping away and I don't know what's gonna be left when I'm gone..."

The vampire slid out of the bed without a word and wrapped his friend in a wiry embrace. He held the dark-haired man as he shook uncontrollably and all the while he whispered, "You're Xander, pet. You're Xander Harris."

o

Some time later, after Spike was sure Xander was definitely asleep, the vampire rose and crept silently out of the room. He made his way outside and pulled a cigarette from his pocket.

"Need a light, bub?"

The blonde turned to the older mutant and smiled, all teeth, "Not from you, mate." His vampiric face came forward and he dropped his unlit cigarette to the ground.

Logan growled softly in respond.

They circled each other slowly. Golden eyes locked with brown ones, so dark they were nearly black, and the vampire and the mutant sized one another up.

"Whelp's mine," Spike said shortly. "Keep your bloody hands to yourself."

"I don't see yer name on him, bub," Logan replied in the same tone. "So, back off."

Smiling darkly, the vampire hissed, "Make me, mate. Got a chip in my head that says I can't hurt a human. But then, you ain't human, are ya?"

No more words were needed as Logan growled again and launched himself at the blonde. They went down in a blur of fists and feet, snarling like wild animals. For every punch that the mutant landed, Spike got one in that was just as good. Heavy breath for breath, pounding heartbeat for heartbeat, neither one of them was willing to give an inch. The two men matched each other evenly.

It was some time later that Logan stared at Spike, breathing heavily. His voice was tinged with grudging admiration. "Not bad. Not as good as me, but not bad."

The vampire's ridges faded away and Spike panted, "That's my line, mate."

In silent agreement, they both dropped to the ground and lay on their backs, trying to catch their breath. The blonde muttered, "Reckon I could use some help protectin' Xan-pet an' all."

Logan responded quietly. "Reckon I could, too."

"Truce?"

"Fer the moment, bub. Fer the moment."

o

Rogue sighed, blowing a tuft of hair from her face. She didn't know what to do anymore. Frustrated, she stared up at her ceiling and wished that Xander had never come to Xavier's Institute.

She __still__ hadn't had a chance to talk to Logan, and now it seemed that everyone was ignoring her in favor of that utterly infuriating man. She couldn't go anywhere in the school without someone talking about him. Even worse, they wouldn't listen to her when she tried to tell them what a jerk he was.

Professor Summers had apparently gotten over his dislike of Xander, even if his wife hadn't, and most of the boys really looked up to him. Plus, he'd endeared himself to the entire female population with the stunt he'd pulled with Warren. And with all the commotion going on, she hadn't even gotten a chance to touch him!

It was like Xander had been elevated to sainthood or something. Everyone was talking about him. Everyone wanted to get to know him better. Everyone wanted him, period. Rogue couldn't understand it.

To top things off, that morning Bobby had the audacity to dump her! All right, so maybe she'd been a bit harsh on him when she'd yelled at him for sneaking into Xander's room, but he was supposed to be her __boyfriend__, wasn't he? And he'd just gone and ignored everything she'd told him and done what he'd wanted.

So now Xander had taken both Logan __and__ Bobby away from her. He was __such__ a jerk! Why was she the only one who could see that?

Sighing again, she slipped out of her bed and pulled her gloves on. She couldn't sleep with so much on her mind, and she decided some fresh air would probably help.

Rogue made it outside without a problem. It was late, so no one was up, and she enjoyed having the whole area to herself. She hadn't gone too far when she caught a tiny movement from the corner of her eye. Squinting into the darkness, she was able to make out a shadowy outline: shaggy hair pulled back into a ponytail, a span of feathery wings - it was him!

She couldn't believe her luck. She'd finally found him by himself. It was dark and secluded, and even if he did cry out, no one would be able to hear him!

Quietly, she crept through the bushes, tugging one of her gloves off. _/Just a little farther.../_ she thought, extending her hand to touch him. _/Just a little.../_

Two taloned hands grabbed her from behind, and before she could cry out, one of them stuffed a dirty rag into her mouth. Xander turned to face her with a cold smile on his lips. She tried to scream as his features melted away, his body becoming smaller and more slender. The wings shriveled to tiny nubs on his back before disappearing completely, and his skin took on a metallic blue gleam. Scaled patterns pushed to the surface.

Golden eyes gleamed with an unholy joy as Mystique smiled darkly.

"Wicked girl," she hissed. "Wicked, wicked girl."

o

When Xander awoke, he realized he was missing something. Actually, if he was going to be honest with himself, he was missing __someone__. Spike had been... nice to him. And the vampire's arms around him had given him a sense of security, which had in turn let him fall asleep again. The nightmares hadn't plagued him after that.

Blearily, he glanced outside. It was still fairly dark out. The vampire had probably gone out to hunt.

Pulling himself to his feet, he decided to search for his friend. Before last night, he had known where he and the blonde stood with regards to one another, but with his gentle, soothing voice and his cool, comforting arms, Spike had turned Xander's world upside down.

He was still half-asleep, not to mention half-dressed, as he stumbled to his window and opened it. Using the ledge to give himself a push, he spread his wings and scoured the area for the glare of bleach-blonde hair. He saw a rustle of movement at the edge of the forest, and was surprised to see the tiny figure of Rogue and two mutants he'd never met before. Even from his vantage point, he could clearly tell that she didn't want anything to do with them.

Well, he mentally shrugged, he may not like the girl very much, but she looked like she could use a little bit of help. He angled his wings downwards and landed a few feet from the group.

"Midnight Ariel Police Patrol," he said in a formal voice. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to see some ID."

The blondish, hairy man holding Rogue shoved the girl towards his partner with a snarl. Xander sized him up curiously; if Hank was a giant blue teddy bear, this man was a giant blonde one on crack. He ducked away from a vicious looking set of claws and held up his hands. "Just because you're ugly doesn't mean you have to take it out on me, y'know."

Another snarl, and the mutant tried to spear-tackle him. Xander dodged a second time and waggled his finger. "Bad dog!"

The man was relentless, but thanks to the soldier in him, combined with Logan's heightened senses, he had no trouble staying just out of the furry man's reach. To be honest, it was exhilarating. All his life he'd been the token normal guy, and now he was fighting against a big, scary mutant with no problem whatsoever. Things were actually starting to look up.

He spared a glance at the blue woman who held Rogue immobile. Maybe she and his opponent weren't really working together; after all, the woman was making no move to help him at all.

Fluffy, or so he'd mentally dubbed the man, took advantage of his distraction and swiped his wicked claws at Xander's chest. They tore through his skin with unbelievable ease, and the dark-haired mutant stumbled back. The blood trickling down his chest didn't bother him, but he felt dizzy.

Xander stumbled back another step, realizing that it wasn't blood loss that was making him woozy. His damned mutation apparently had decided to kick in, and as the darkness swallowed him whole, his last thought was that he was in __deep__ shit.

o

Rogue's eyes widened when Sabertooth's claws slashed across Xander's chest. She whimpered a little, wondering if when Xander fell, that's what they'd do to her.

The dark-haired mutant stumbled back, his brow furrowing, and she realized he was having one of the blackouts she'd heard about. He slumped to the ground a moment later, unconscious.

The hair on her neck rose as Sabertooth growled again, but instead of killing Xander like she'd expected, he reached down and slung the young man's body over his shoulder. He turned towards the two women and Rogue saw a feral grin on his face.

Mystique shoved the redhead away with contempt, and Rogue wasn't able to catch her footing in time. She fell to the ground and scraped her knees against the cold, unforgiving earth.

She stared up at Magneto's two henchmen fearfully. How had they gotten inside the school's defenses? Would they kill her now? Or would they take her wherever they were taking Xander?

The blue woman made a kissy-face at her. "Wicked girl," she said again. "You're playing for the wrong team." Then Mystique laughed and both she and Sabertooth walked away with Xander in tow.

Rogue stared after them for a minute, then scrambled to her feet. She couldn't believe her luck. Not only was she alive, but those two had just gotten rid of her biggest problem for her! Trying not to grin, she turned on her heel and ran back to the institute.

o

Henry groaned, rubbing at his eyes with a hairy paw.

He'd been studying Xander's DNA for what seemed to be an eternity, and he __still__ hadn't been able to isolate the original strand. He was close, though. He could feel it.

The Professor had actually suggested it to him; after all, how could they truly understand the dark-haired man's mutation if they didn't know __what__ he'd mutated from. After six hours in front of his computers, though, he was about ready to call it a night.

A tiny beep alerted him that one of his programs had found something, and he quickly began to scan through the raw data that flickered across one of the monitors at a rapid speed. His eyes narrowed.

"Impossible," he muttered, searching the information for some sort of error. "That simply can't be right..."

But, much to his shock and dismay, he found no mistake.

o

Professor Xavier answered the frantic knocking on his door with a soft-spoken, "Come in."

"Ah!" he said, smiling as Henry entered quickly, "I was wondering when you'd come and see me. Have a seat, Henry. Would you care for some tea?"

The furry mutant shook his handful of computer printouts and responded,"No, Professor, I -"

"Relax, Henry," the older man said. "There's no rush."

Henry tried again, "But there __is__ a rush! Professor-"

"Oolong or Earl Grey?"

"Professor!"

Xavier quirked a brow and said, "I know, Henry."

"You... what?"

Gesturing for the flustered mutant to take a seat, the Professor responded, "I'm guessing that you've managed to isolate Alexander's original DNA and found two things. The first of which is probably that his mutation isn't natural; it was genetically engineered."

Henry's mouth flapped comically as Professor Xavier calmly poured him a cup of tea.

"... and the second of which is probably even more disturbing to you. Our dear Alexander Harris isn't a Harris at all. Rather, he's Alexander Lenscher, born to my dear friend Eric Lenscher and his lover, Raven Darkholme. More widely know as Magneto and Mystique."

The blue man's mouth hung open, and the Professor gently shut it with a click.

He asked mildly, "Did you want sugar with that?"

o


	12. Under a Blood Red Sky

Title: The Dopplegang Effect

Author: Becka

Chapter 12: Under a Blood Red Sky

o

It was some time later when he came to awareness. He tried to sit up, only to find he was strapped, rather tightly, to a cold, metal bed. Everything was sore, and his wings were pinned uncomfortably between the bed and his own body. Looking around, he frowned. Metal walls, metal ceiling, and - call it a hunch - metal floor as well, though he couldn't quite look over the end of the bed to see it. There was nothing else in the room save the bed and himself.

A few of his other senses perked up - there was a curious odor emanating from an air duct in the corner, and a few muted whispers reached to him from beyond the walls. All in all, it was eerily familiar.

He remembered his fight with Fluffy in bits and pieces. Apparently, the man had brought him here, wherever here was. Well, they didn't know who they were dealing with if they thought some stupid table was going to hold him; all he had to do was ice up, freeze his restraints, and make a strategic exit.

Closing his eyes, he focused his power. Or tried to, at least. For some reason, it wasn't working. He couldn't ice up.

Xander opened his mind, trying to listen in on the thoughts of those around him, but he couldn't hear anyone's voice in his head save his own.

Frightened, he tried to call out again. A panel on the far wall slid open and a man, _/Magneto?/,_ stepped through. The door slid shut behind him with an audible click.

"Glad to see you've joined us, Alexander," Magneto said with a tiny smile.

Xander glared at the older man. "Don't call me that."

"Why? It is your name." There was a hint of humor in the man's voice.

"Only my father called me Alexander, and he only got away with it because he kicked the crap out of me if I said anything about. You're not him, so just shut the fuck up!"

A flicker of emotion flashed across Magneto's face, but it disappeared so quickly that Xander wondered if he'd imagined it. "No," the older mutant said softly, "I'm not him."

"Why can't I use my powers?" Xander asked abruptly.

"Collar," the man responded simply. "A lovely little concept devised by the humans who fear us; what's there to fear when we can't use our powers? So, until you join the Brotherhood, it's safer for all parties involved."

"Until?" the winged-mutant scoffed, something not particularly easy to pull off from his present position. "Jumping the gun there a bit, aren't you? What's to say I __never__ join your group? And my friends are going to be looking for you the minute they find I'm gone."

"They can't find us here, Alexander."

"Don't you fucking call me that!"

Magneto seemed unperturbed. He continued, "At any rate, you __will__ join the Brotherhood. We can be very... convincing."

"Oh? Could have fooled me. 'Cause y'know, kidnapping me and strapping me to a freakin' table is __really__ going to convince me."

"You will come around eventually."

"I'll die first." His mouth moved before he could stop himself. "Of old age, I mean. Unless __you__ die and the next kook that takes over this setup realizes what a shitty idea this is and lets me go."

"Mark my words, Alexander. You __will__ join us." There was barely-suppressed rage bubbling underneath the surface of Magneto's mind. He could see it even without his telepathy. The older mutant swept out of the room with a flourish of his cape.

"Bite me, buckethead." Xander petulantly stuck his tongue out at the wall. After a moment, he closed his eyes and whispered, "And don't call me that. Don't __ever__ call me that."

o

Outside Alexander's cell, Eric Lenscher leaned against the wall for support. He sighed and shook his head, resisting the urge to go back into the room and free his son.

It wasn't as though everything __had__ to be this way. He could talk to Alex, explain to him why everything had turned out the way it did. He could show him the world Magneto dreamed of, and how very close they were to true mutant liberation.

All of this was necessary. They'd come so far, too far to just give up. Every single member of the Brotherhood was willing to sacrifice his or her life in order to see the common goal, a world where they didn't have to live in shame, realized.

But it had been so very long since he had seen Alex. Perhaps if he just talked to him, the young mutant would come around the way his other son and daughter had...

Magneto jerked his head sharply to one side as an intense pain filtered through his mind. After a moment, it subsided.

_/What was I doing?/_ He shook his head to clear it. _/Ah, that's right./_

Xander would take some convincing, but he'd join the Brotherhood in the end. And if he didn't, well... there were things much worse than death, and Magneto was intimately acquainted with all of them.

o

Two sets of narrowed eyes watched Magneto. They watched the look of sorrow on his face as he left the holding cell. They watched the spectrum of emotion flicker there. They watched him jerk his head abruptly to the side, as though an invisible force had cuffed him soundly on the jaw. And they watched his face harden abruptly, resolution frightening in its intensity, as he walked away from Xander's cell.

The two mutants looked at each other, and one of them asked impatiently, "Now?"

"Yeah," the other said softly, "Now's good."

An unholy joy lit up the first mutant's face. He turned away from his companion and stealthily entered the room where Xander was being held captive.

The second mutant stared after him for a moment. He would stand guard until his companion was done. This was a risky business for them; Magneto had made it perfectly clear what he thought of physical abuse when one of the Brotherhood had gotten a little... zealous... in his interrogation techniques. But then, he and his companion weren't taking orders from Magneto.

Smiling grimly, he laughed, "Sloppy seconds."

o

Xander looked up at the hiss of the door. A short, muscular man entered. He was most certainly a mutant, if only for the fact that he had __four__ arms, dense with muscle and rippling with power. That wasn't what made Xander's breath catch in his throat, though. It was the look on the man's face. Perverted joy shone from dark eyes, and the parody of a smile pulled his thin lips flat against his teeth.

Xander knew the look very well. In fact, he was intimately aquatinted with it.

It was the look Xander's father wore every night that he'd raped him.

o

Blood dripped down Xander's chin, streaking red against cheeks before disappearing into his hair. He'd bitten his lip straight through, and with the collar on him, he couldn't heal himself. He'd been bleeding for close to an hour, and if he turned his head a little, he could feel the stickiness. He was certain there was a puddle of blood pooling beneath his head, and he was equally certain that in another hour it would dry, gluing his tousled hair to the table.

That didn't bother him, though. It was a small price to pay to keep his pride.

They hadn't made him scream.

When the four-armed man had beaten him, he thought he was going to break. When the man had fucked him, he thought he was going to die. When the man left him, he nearly cried with relief.

But it seemed Magneto was quite thorough in his __convincing__, just as he'd promised to be. Not even a minute had passed before a second man had entered. Taller than the first, with exotic, dark skin, and eyes that were almost black, and he'd picked up where Four-arms had left off.

In the cell, Xander had no concept of time. He believed they'd been working him over for nearly two hours before they bored of him. They'd cleaned him up with impersonal hands, laughing at him like he was some sort of freak. It did give him some small satisfaction that they hadn't been able to clean his mouth; Four-arms had nearly lost a finger when he'd tried.

_/Not,/_ Xander amended silently, _/that he'd miss it or anything./_

The winged-mutant stared up at the cold, metal ceiling and resisted the urge to cry. If they were monitoring him, which someone undoubtedly was, he wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing him cry.

_/So Magneto thinks he can break me. Obviously doesn't know about my past, does he? If that asshole thinks this will break me, he's in for an unpleasant surprise. I survived my father. I can do it again./_

He felt the tears trying to fight free, but he brutally suppressed them, blinking rapidly. His mind was like a broken record as he repeated his mantra seamlessly.

_/I can do it again./_

o

Spike paced back and forth furiously in Xander's room. His face was a mask of anger, mixed with a healthy dose of concern. He'd been searching the Institute all day, and he couldn't find a single trace of Xander. No one had seen the whelp since last night, when they'd retired to his room, and no one had any idea where he was.

Several possibilities flickered through Spike's mind. Had Xander been embarrassed about his nightmares the night before? Maybe he just needed a little bit of time to himself? Maybe this was all just a sick game to see if he would worry, and Xander was going to fly through the window any minute and have a good laugh at the vampire's expense.

Then again, perhaps he'd been kidnapped? That Magneto bloke who'd been toting Xander through the woods when he'd first found the whelp had seemed pretty intent, after all. Or maybe he was reaching. It was possible that Xander had suffered another attack, one of the blackouts that furry blue doctor had told him about. Maybe he was passed out somewhere, and he'd be back as soon as he woke up. That wasn't so bad...

The blonde growled and shook his head. If that was the case and some vampire or demon found him, he'd be an easy target. Not that Spike could blame them. Xander's blood was intoxicating; power danced through his veins like quicksilver. Still, the thought of his Xan-pet, unconscious and helpless, laid out like a feast for some creature of the night, made him feel sick.

"Yer gonna run a hole into the carpet if you keep that up, bub."

The irate vampire glanced at Logan who was sprawled comfortably across Xander's bed and snarled, "You got a better idea, mate?"

"Let's search the grounds again," the mutant replied evenly. "We might pick somethin' up."

"Yeah, mate? An' I suppose you've forgotten that we didn't find anythin' the __first__ time. Or the second, or the third, or..."

"Sarcasm isn't appreciated, bub."

"Bite me," Spike said petulantly.

"Don't tempt me. Now, stop yer mopin' and let's __go__." Logan slid off the bed and headed for the door.

"Whatever, mate." The blonde sighed, then perked up with a wicked grin. "Can I go terrorize that lil' bit o' yours?"

The stocky mutant gave him a curious look and Spike clarified, "The one that's always 'anging about you like a trained puppy. Red-haired bint? Green eyes? Ringin' any bells 'ere?"

"Rogue?"

"That's the one."

"Why?"

"'Cause she doesn't like my Xan-pet, an' when you don't like someone, you make it a point to know everythin' bad that happens to 'em," Spike replied simply.

Logan shrugged. "If ya think it'll help, knock yerself out."

o

Rogue sighed, blowing a strand of hair from her face. She stared out the window and made a face. Now that __he__ was gone, she'd expected that she'd have plenty of time to talk to Logan, but the older mutant was so busy searching for Xander he didn't have time for __anyone__. It sucked! Xander wasn't even __here__ and he was __still__ ruining her relationship with Logan.

"Nice view, innit?"

Rogue started, jerking her head around to stare at the blonde man behind her. He seemed to materialize from the very shadows.

"Who are you?" she asked defensively. The blonde looked far too old to be a new student, and she knew for a fact that they weren't expecting any new professors, either.

She took a moment to study him. A leather duster billowed around him as he walked, lending an air of menace to his chiseled facial features. Cold blue eyes glinted dangerously, and his voice was like honey. "A friend of Xan-pet's. Name's Spike, ducks."

"Spike?" Rogue snorted derisively. "What kind of name is that?"

The blonde grinned widely. "Not much o' one, I suppose. Then again, I got it for my... __particular__... methods o' torturing my victims with railroad spikes. You Americans are so big on shortenin' names... apparently 'William the Bloody' was too bloody long for you lot to 'andle."

The young mutant swallowed hard and took a step back. She stuttered, "You're just trying to scare me!"

"Why would I do a thing like that, ducks?" Spike's voice was a wicked purr.

"Because you're just like Xander. You're just as big of a jerk as he was!" In stark contract, Rogue's voice sounded shrill, even to her own ears.

"Oh?" Spike's mouth was still smiling, but there was no light in his eyes. "That's where I'd 'ave to say you're wrong. Xander's a white knight..." He closed the distance between them in the span of a single breath. "... an' about as far from me as night is to day."

"Stay away from me!"

"See, I'm a demon, ducks." The blonde's eyes flashed yellow, and the thick ridges of his natural face pushed forward, nearly pulsing. "A vampire, if you want to get tight-assed 'bout it. A soulless monster with a taste for blood, and __nothin'__ like Xan. I've killed more bints like you than I can even __count__. So, why don't you tell me what you know 'bout Xander. Unless," he smiled, showing teeth, "you'd care ta be intimately acquainted with __how__ I got my name."

o

Deep in the heart of the mansion, Professor Charles Xavier sat alone in his study. The light from the fireplace cast an eerie glow on his face, and shadows danced along the walls like demons.

_/Why are you doing this, Eric?/_ The little tendril of thought reached out to Magneto's mind. It whispered softly, as sad and confused as a lost child.

Unbidden, Magneto's mind-voice responded, _/You know why, Charles./_ If Xavier's voice was a whisper, quiet and unintrusive, than Eric's voice was a rumble, resounding in its splendor.

_/He's your son./_

_/He's only what I make him./_

Xavier lifted his hand and reached out blindly to the friend who he'd known for so many years, and who he missed so very much. _/You've changed so much, Eric. What happened to our dream?/_

Magneto seemed to scoff. _/It was a fool's dream, Charles. A whimsical fancy, a make-believe story, and, while pleasant, it could never be anything more./_

_/I will stop you, you know./_

_/I look forward to it, old friend./_ With that, Magneto abruptly severed their link.

Professor Xavier, debatably one of the most powerful telepaths on the planet, founder of the X-men, and political force unto himself, buried his face in his hands, shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

o

"Fuck," Four-arms muttered as he tried to bend Xander over the metal table. The dark-haired mutant fought him every step of the way, kicking and squirming for all he was worth. Even through the gag, they could make out several muffled curses.

"Hurry up," the dark-skinned mutant said.

"Whatever," Four-arms replied. "He's not going to remember this anyway."

A strange shudder shook the very foundations of the room, and both mutants looked up, fear flickering across their faces.

"Hurry up. The Master is almost here."

Four-arms secured Xander tightly with two of his arms, and his companion pulled out a wicked needle from one of his pockets. The ground shook again, but both mutants were tight-lipped as they stoically ignored it.

Xander felt a sharp pain in his arm, and the last thought that crossed through his mind before he blacked out was, _/Master?/_

o

He came to awareness slowly. His eyes assessed his surroundings curiously: metal walls, metal ceiling, metal floor. From his position, he couldn't see a door. His vision was a little fuzy, but he focused on the two men in the room with him; one man with four arms was restraining him as the other violated his body. He tried to say something, but his voice seemed to be stuck in his throat.

A curious hiss caught his attention as one of the walls slid back, and a man stepped through. The door shut behind him with an audible click, and he felt both men stiffen as they stared fearfully at the newcomer.

One of the men opened his mouth to say something, but he was silenced as the man lifted a hand. The two men violating him seemed to implode. It was nothing like he'd ever seen before; blood splattered across the metal walls and floor. Some of it got onto his face as well.

He stared at the man fearfully. There was something... sickening about this man. It made his skin crawl, but... the man had saved him, hadn't he?

The man's grin was that of a lunatic, so wide it seemed to spread from ear to ear. His voice was a rumble as he asked, "Do you have any questions for me?"

The knot in his throat uncoiled. He licked his dry lips, tasting blood, and answered hoarsely, "Who am I?"

If possible, the man's smile widened marginally. "My precious Doppelganger, of course."

"Who are you?"

"Your Master. You may call me Sinister." And with that, the man threw back his head and laughed.

o

Note: For everyone unfamiliar with the X-men, the two men who torture Xander are Forearm and Harpoon. They are two of Sinister's henchmen, the Marauders. Sinister is also fairly big into cloning, and it doesn't matter how many times you kill them because he can always bring them back.

Last, Sinister has no real mutant power. His only gift is his complete indestructibility. The reason why he was able to destroy Harpoon and Forearm with the ease that he did is because (for my story purposes, at least) he planted his own version of little bombs in them when he created them. That's assuming that any of you actually care about the mechanics of how he made them go boom.

And while I don't remember who the mother is, Magneto does have two children in the comics: Quicksilver and the Scarlet Witch. If anyone gets a chance to check out the Ultimate X-men graphic novels, Quicksilver is a cuttie.

o


	13. In Destruction, Creation

Title: The Dopplegang Effect

Author: Becka

Chapter 13: In Destruction, Creation

o

"That bitch!" Spike railed, pulling Logan into Xander's room. "That bloody bitch!" The vampire let loose a string of curses that actually impressed Logan.

Suppressing a smile, the mutant asked simply, "Who?"

"Who d'you think, mate?" the blonde man asked snidely as he began to pace. "That fuckin' bint o' yours!"

"Rogue?" Logan hazarded.

"Are you __daft__?" Spike gave him a look that said he clearly thought so and continued, "O' course __Rogue__."

Logan watched the blonde man pace furiously and decided that if he didn't calm the vampire down a bit, Xander wouldn't have a carpet to come back to. "What did she do that's so bad?" he asked. "She's jus' a kid."

"__Kid__?" Spike spit out the word like an insult. "Let me clue you in on a little secret, mate. Females aren't __born__ children. They don' grow up like the rest o' us. They come out from 'tween their mum's legs plottin' how ta make their daddies buy 'em somethin' pretty, understand? They're bloody __born__ knowin' how ta pull a fast one on us blokes. Lyin', deceivin'... __any__ bint on this earth makes me look like a fuckin' __altar boy__!"

"What. Did. She. Do?"

"Swear on me duster, should just give up on the lot. Bein' bent is ten times easier, ta very much." Spike muttered. He shook his head and said, "I'll tell you what the bitch did. She __saw__ two o' that Magneto fella's group take Xan-pet, an' she didn't say a fuckin' __word__ 'bout it."

Logan's anger flared and he growled, "That __bitch__."

o

The man, his... Master? helped to steady him. Two cold, impersonal hands reached for his neck, and he flinched back. There was a flash of something he couldn't quite place in Sinister's eyes, but then the man smiled and said, "They collared you. Please, let me help."

As the man fiddled with the collar on his neck, he asked hesitantly, "Do... do I have a name? Or is my name Doppelganger?"

"You are my Doppelganger," Sinister replied evenly. He paused, then added. "Dual, for short."

"Dual," he repeated, testing the sound of it on his tongue. It didn't sound right.

The collar opened with a soft click, and Sinister stepped back, holding it up so that Dual could see it. "They used this to block your powers. They were afraid of what you could do."

"Powers?" he replied stupidly.

"You're a mutant. Most likely the most powerful mutant on this planet." His Master - that was still going to take a little getting used to - smiled widely as though that statement seemed to please him. He gestured for Dual to follow him and together they made their way through the smoking remains of what he assumed was an enemy base.

The dark-haired mutant stared at the bodies that littered the ground and asked in a quiet voice, "What... what happened? I don't remember any of this..."

Sinister explained, "You are one of my Marauders. We wish to destroy the human's in this world who persecute us, and subjugate the mutants who help them. This group-" He toed on of the bodies distastefully before continuing, "-is known as the Brotherhood. They captured you and tried to use you against me."

"This..." Dual shook his head. "... this doesn't sound like anything that would happen to me. But," he nibbled his lip, "I guess I wouldn't know. Do you know why I joined you?"

"You were raised by humans, both prime examples of who we fight against. When you were a child, they hurt you. You came to me for help."

/_That's it, boy. Fuck. So tight- _/

Dual sharply turned his head to the side. Was that... a memory? Did... did his __father__ actually do that to him...?

He reached for it in his mind, but it danced away, leaving him with only a vague understanding of what had happened. It seemed as though what Sinister was saying was, in fact, true. The shadows of his memories whispered to him, urging him to believe this was real, and to embrace this life again.

Dual stepped over the body of an older mutant dressed in red. His tattered cape covered most of his body, but there were severe burns visible, and several cuts that bled sluggishly. However, the dark-haired mutant was listening so intently to his Master that he didn't see the man on the ground reaching to him with both hands. The first hand pleaded for help. The second begged for forgiveness.

o

Sinister led him through the underground base he claimed was their home. There were several mutants in the hallways, but they did their best to avoid the duo. It seemed as though they were... scared.

After a series of quick turns, they entered what appeared to be a laboratory, and his Master turned to him and said, "Will you trust me in this?"

"In what?" he asked curiously.

"You and I were working on a genetic boost for your system that would make your mutation manifest completely. We were ready to use it when you were taken... and I know you don't remember any of this, but it was what you wanted. Will you trust me?" The man's voice was as smooth as honey.

"I..."

"Please, Dual. You wanted this. It will be painful, but you wanted to become powerful enough that nothing could stop us from realizing our dream." Sinister paused, perhaps for effect, and added quietly, "So that you could take your revenge on the ones that hurt you."

"I..."

A tiny voice inside his head whispered, _/ Do it. This was your dream, wasn't it? He only wants to help... /_

Slowly, Dual nodded. "All right. What should I do?"

Sinister smiled broadly. He showed Dual where to lay down and took a moment to explain the various machines and what they were going to do. Then he used a small needle to inject the first stage into Dual's veins. His Master faded to the background, and lights switched on above him. He felt hot and tried to tell Sinister that, but his voice refused to work. He tried to sit up, but his body wouldn't listen to him.

It hit him all at once, and he was grateful he couldn't cry out. Pain like nothing he'd ever felt before burned him. His body shuddered under the strain as the mutation of every mutant he'd ever met manifested instantaneously.

o

Sinister smiled to himself as he watched his new pet cry out in pain. He knew it was extremely dangerous to manipulate Xander's already unstable DNA, but he'd waited so very long for this day.

It had taken him time to bring Magneto under his control, to instill the desire for a perfect weapon to subjugate humankind, and even more time to convince him that the only choice for those experiments was his soon-to-be-born son. Only Sinister's carefully administered control-drugs had enabled him to direct Magneto to what he wanted to do. And when Xander __had__ been born and the testing had begun, results had been... uncertain... at best.

After forcing Xander's power to manifest at a very young age, Sinister had found his mutation to be very similar to Mystique's power. It seemed that if he was around a mutant long enough, he could pick up some of their characteristics. The drawback, though, was that his power wasn't very strong, and it only lasted for as long as he was around that particular mutant. He __could__ pick up characteristics from more than one person, but the more he divided his powers, the weaker those characteristics would be.

Xander had seemed like the perfect candidate for Sinister's most recent genetic breakthrough, and while theoretically it __had__ worked, the instability of Xander's DNA had been troublesome. He'd decided to wait and see how the boy's power would alter in an uncontrolled environment.

The second stage had been a bit smoother. After careful selection, the Harris family had been chosen. At that time though, he hadn't known of the Hellmouth, an anomaly he was still trying to understand. Apparently, whatever energies were floating around Sunnydale had interfered with Xander's mutation, causing it to lay dormant.

He'd decided that the boy's nineteenth birthday would be when he would make his move and reclaim the boy, but as fate had it, Xander skipped town before that had happened. By the time Sinister had found him again, he was just arriving at Xavier's Institute. Rather than risk his own forces, he'd let Magneto capture the boy, and had used his spies in the organization to drive a wedge between Xander and the Brotherhood. The Brotherhood had no idea of Xander's mistreatment at the hands of Harpoon and Forearm, and Xander had no idea that his frequent beatings and rape had not been ordered by Magneto.

However, Sinister was not a patient man, and he'd decided to retrieve the boy and secure the young mutant's trust in him by "rescuing" him from the evil Brotherhood. And, thanks to the use of a certain drug, the boy's first concrete memory was of that moment.

Now, though, Sinister had to smile. Yes, it was dangerous to try and force the boy's mutation to manifest, but if Xander died, there was no real loss. He would simply clone the boy as many times as necessary.

o

"So... what? We jus' waltz on in an' say, 'Sorry 'bout the misunderstandin', mates, but we'll be takin' our Xan-pet back now,'" Spike asked as he and Logan moved through the mansion silently.

"I was thinkin' more along the lines o' tellin' them ta get outta our way and killin' the ones who don't listen."

The blonde gave his companion an appraising look. "I like the way you think, mate."

The pair came to a halt as they saw Scott and Warren blocking the front door. There was a terse moment of silence, and then Warren asked, "So, is it like a raffle or something? 'Cause me and Scott would hate to think you're going to rescue Xander without us."

o

Xavier stared into his fireplace. He knew that a few of his X-men were on their way to rescue Xander, and he fully approved. But there was another problem that he needed to deal with. One, he mused, that he'd let get far too out of hand.

_/Jean?/ _

_/Yes, Professor?/_

_/Come to my study, please./_

_/Yes, Professor./_

A moment later, the redhead opened the door and stepped through. She asked timidly, "You wanted to see me?"

Xavier stared at the girl who he'd come to think of as his own daughter, and the disappointment must have been clear on his face because she flinched and stared at the floor. He said softly, "I've let this go on long enough, Jean. What you did to Xander... and what you're now doing to both Storm and Rogue... it's beyond unforgivable."

Jean jerked her head up and stared at the older mutant with wide eyes.

He continued, "Yes, I've been aware of it for some time. I simply didn't want to believe it was true. You've been blinded by your own jealousy, Jean, and you've been feeding Rogue's infatuation with Logan and Storm's fear of Xander, and it has to __stop__."

"Professor-" her voice trembled a little.

"There are no excuses, Jean. I once taught you that there is always a price we pay for our own actions. And this is yours." He reached into her mind, searching for the part of her that allowed her to access her gifts, and surrounded it with his power. In the span of three seconds, he sealed away her powers behind an impenetrable mental shield.

Jean fell to her knees, and began to cry when she realized what he'd done. It took all of his willpower, but he managed to keep himself from reaching out and comforting her.

"Is... is this permanent?" Her voice broke on a sob.

Xavier closed his eyes and answered quietly, "Only if you don't learn from your mistakes."

o

Dual cried out, and he was grateful he was lying down because he knew he wasn't able to stand. He could __feel__ his body straining itself, pulling itself apart to remake him into something stronger, faster, and more powerful. He knew in that moment that the treatment was killing him.

An image of a faceless man holding him down, and a familiar voice whispered cruelly, /_Only one thing you're good for... that's it, boy. Fuck. So tight- / _strengthened his resolve.

It was killing him, but he wouldn't die. He __refused__ to die.

He couldn't die until he'd made that man pay for hurting him.

He cried out again, and a voice that he thought was his own, though he couldn't be sure, whispered to him, /_Not until you hurt them like they hurt you_./

_/Not until you hurt __all__ of them, just like they hurt __you__./_

o


	14. Origins

Title: The Dopplegang Effect

Author: Becka

Chapter 14: Origins

o

Groaning softly, he opened his eyes. His surroundings were unfamiliar, and it seemed as though he was looking at everything through a haze of red. Otherwise, he seemed to be in a somewhat cozy bedroom. _/Where am I? The last thing I remember is that lab. Sinister said I'd boost my powers... but why is everything tinted red? C'mon, Xan, wake up!/_

_/Wait. Xan? Who's Xan?/_

Dual sat up quickly, and his body cried out in protest. He felt... well, he felt like he'd been run over by a truck on the highway, then bounced off the tires of every car that followed. On the other hand, the dark-haired mutant could __feel__ his body pulsing with energy. It was disconcerting. Half of him wanted to curl up into a little ball and nap the rest of the day away, and the other half of him felt as though he could run a triathlon in under ten minutes.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a mirror on the wall. He pulled himself out of bed and stumbled over to it. He had no idea what to expect.

The reflection that stared back at him offered no answers. The man's face in the mirror was that of a complete stranger, washed in red: shaggy hair, slightly crooked nose that looked like it might have been broken once or twice, full lips. His eyes were bright red. Well, everything was red, but somehow he knew that was because his irises were solid red save the black pupil at the center.

_/Talk about looking at the world through rose-colored glasses,/_ his mind-voice quipped sarcastically.

Tentatively, he smiled at his reflection. That seemed familiar enough. However, his canines seemed to be a bit sharper than the rest of his teeth; if he'd seen them on anyone else, he'd have called them fangs.

He backed away from the mirror and took a moment to glance around. The room seemed Spartan enough. There were no posters on the walls, and other than the bed, there was a desk littered with anti-human propaganda, and several bookshelves. Browsing through the titles, he found it was teeming with literature about the next evolution of the human race and how humans persecuted mutants simply because they couldn't handle accepting and embracing fate. There was also a TV/VCR combo in the corner and a stack of videotapes. Curiously, he popped one in.

His eyes widened a little as a young child, obviously a mutant, screamed as he was tortured by a group of scientists. Whoever's room this was seemed to be a fanatic for Sinister's cause.

There was a knock on the door, and he quickly turned the television off. He cleared his throat and said hesitantly, "Come in."

Sinister stepped through, the ever-present maniacal smile on his face. "You're awake," he said, stating the obvious. "I took it upon myself to move you to your old quarters while you were recovering. I didn't think you'd mind."

Dual shook his head quickly. "Umm... no. This is... my room? All of this stuff-" he waved a hand at the shelves, "-is mine?"

The older man nodded and said proudly, "You were one of my most... vigilant... generals. You used to say you kept all of this so that you'd never forget what it is you fight for."

The dark-haired man took a moment to process the information. None of this seemed like anything he would do, but then, he was a stranger to himself so he really wouldn't know. After all, Sinister had destroyed an entire enemy base just to rescue him, so he must have been really important to the man. But wouldn't he feel __something__ when looking at all this stuff that he supposedly lived by?

Sinister asked gently, "How do you feel?"

"Pretty shitty," Dual answered honestly, grateful the other man was there to distract him. "Did... did the treatment work?"

The other mutant's smile widened. "We shall have to see, won't we? But I feel fairly confidant in saying yes."

"Why's that?"

Sinister pointed to a spot behind him, and Dual turned his head to look. As he peeked cautiously over his shoulder, he felt the blood drain from his face. A forked tail waved cheerfully at him, and it only took him a moment to realize that he was the one controlling it.

o

Dual followed Sinister timidly down the hall, listening with a half-ear to what the other man said. It wasn't as though he wasn't interested in what his Master was talking about. It was just... he had an angel's wings and a demon's tail, blood red eyes and a set of teeth that would make anyone flinch. He looked like some child's description of a monster, and __that__ was a bit more pressing to him.

After about five minutes, they reached their destination. Sinister called it the Control Room. The name had bothered Dual a little bit, but the older mutant had explained it was the true base of their operations. State-of-the-art technology greeted his eyes, and his gaze was unwillingly drawn to the largest monitor where a man's picture was being displayed. His stomach did several flip-flops and he pointed to the image and asked, "Who's that?"

"That?" Sinister glanced at the picture. "That is one of the human-lovers we fight against. He is known as Wolverine."

That didn't sound right to Dual. Remembering that mutants were big on codenames he asked, "Does he go by any other names?"

Sinister sniffed disdainfully, but answered, "I believe he is known to his teammates as Logan."

_:: "Yeah," he felt himself grin. "Yeah, I'm sure. What's your name, by the way?"_

_"Logan. I don't know where I'm goin'..." Logan smiled at him, "but yer welcome fer the ride." ::_

"Logan." Dual tested the sound of it on his tongue and nodded. "So, what's his picture doing up there?"

The older mutant indicated for Dual to take a seat before responding, "This serves two purposes. First, you have no real memories because of what was done to you. You need to know your enemies before you can fight them. And second?" Sinister laughed, "We must see what the enhancer did to you. These are all mutants you've fought before, and the contact may have left its mark."

"I might be able to do what they can do?" If that was the case, no wonder his body was teeming with energy.

"We shall see," his Master replied. "Now, Wolverine has very delicate senses: heightened hearing, smell, taste, etc. We've also seen him heal himself from grievous injuries. Last, his skeleton is fused with adamantium." As Dual's confused looked, he explained, "Adamantium is the strongest metal known to... anyone. It makes him nearly impossible to kill."

The image on the screen changed to a second picture of Logan, and against his will, Dual flinched. The man was gutting another mutant, and the madness in his eyes was tangible. Two sets of wicked claws extended from each hand, and there was blood on the snarling mouth.

Sinister continued smoothly, "As you can see, he's a wild animal. You probably have his senses, and his regenerative abilities, but the metal that was fused onto his skeleton had nothing to do with his mutation."

Dual stared at the image, and an image of Logan smiling at him and tossing him a beer flashed in his mind. He shook his head furiously, trying to get rid of it. The man was his enemy, for fucksake. He looked up at his Master and said, "I can hear someone whispering halfway across the compound, and I know they're sorely in need of a shower, so I guess that answers __that__. As for healing myself..." He reached down to his boot, then paused. He knew he carried a pocketknife. He __knew__ it.

Smiling, he said, "I remember something. I always carry a pocketknife, right? Do you know where it is?"

The older mutant reached into the folds of his clothing and pulled a small knife free. He tossed it to Dual who caught it, still grinning.

Flicking it open, he nicked himself on his thumb. A moment later, the wound healed over and he held up his hand proudly, showing his Master the unmarred flesh.

"Excellent." Sinister nodded approvingly.

The image on the screen flashed again, and he found himself staring at a red-haired woman. A feeling of anger uncoiled in his gut. Now __that__ was the sort of response he expected to feel when looking at a picture of the enemy.

_:: He stared down at the woman, and he could feel the bitterness in her heart. She'd ripped him open, pulling one of his most closely guarded memories forward just so she could hurt him._

_"...wait..." she said, but he didn't want to wait. He just wanted to get away from her. ::_

"Jean Summers, also known as Marvel Girl-"

Dual cut him off as he muttered softly "Bitch. Fucking __bitch__."

Sinister smiled as he turned his own hateful glare on the picture. "That she is, my boy. That she is."

o

After a few more hours, Sinister told Dual to retire to his room for the day. He seemed pleased, though that was hardly unexpected.

Picture after picture, his Master had told him about the enemy. He explained their powers, and occasionally delved a little bit deeper and spoke of their pasts and their weaknesses. Dual's mind flashed bits and pieces of memories at him when he looked on a few of the faces... sometimes he'd feel as though he'd been close to them, and sometimes he'd react with the same anger as when he'd first seen Marvel Girl's picture.

They'd tested him for various abilities, and overall, the dark-haired mutant felt he'd done remarkably well. He could create both fire and ice, and under pressure, he'd managed to turn his body into a living statue of ice. That had been a rush. In that form, he had a much better command of the mutation. He could control metal, walk through walls, and he'd even made it rain outside. He'd levitated one of the computer screens, and he'd teleported himself across the room in the blink of an eye. He was stronger, faster, and more agile than he could ever remember being, and his Master had assured him of that on all three accounts.

On the other hand, it seemed that all he'd pulled from the mutant who could shoot lasers from his eyes were the red eyes that tinted everything he looked at. He couldn't absorb anything from someone by simply touching him or her, and he couldn't morph his body into any shape other than his own.

He'd questioned Sinister about why he seemed to only learn bits and pieces from some mutants, as opposed to the mutants whose powers he'd received fully. The older man had theorized that perhaps the physical mutations had been too much for his body, which would explain why he wasn't sporting any blue fur. Not that he was complaining; wings, a tail, fangs, and red eyes were bizarre enough. He was definitely grateful for his lack of furriness or scaliness. Plus, not having four arms was a definite bonus.

Another theory his master had tossed out was that some of the mutations were too similar to what he could already do for them to register. For example, the blue woman could change her shape and take on the appearance and abilities of anyone. He, on the other hand, could absorb their abilities, so why would he need to change his shape? The same went for the psychic-vampire girl.

Dual had another theory, but he hadn't voiced it. It disturbed him too much, and putting it into words would make it real. Still, he wondered, what if his genetic variations were __conscious__, like a living parasite or something. What if his lack of physical change was because whatever it was inside of him had __chosen__ not to change? It was an uncomfortable thought.

He quickly dismissed it and went back to what he'd learned. His telepathy was extremely strong, but he figured that was because he'd gotten it from two mutants as opposed to just one. It seemed as though he could read anyone's mind, but for some reason, he couldn't sense __anything__ from his Master. That had puzzled him, but he decided against bringing it up. After all, he was supposed to follow Sinister, and if he admitted to trying to read his mind, the older mutant might feel as though he didn't trust him.

Dual sighed as he plopped down on his bed and stared at the books and the tapes. He supposed that before his memory had been taken from him, he could recite them by heart. Maybe when he wasn't quite so tired, he'd start the long process of reading them all again. After all, this was his life and his cause. He didn't want to embarrass himself in front of Sinister's men by being ignorant.

He stared up at the ceiling mournfully. Did he have any friends in this strange and impersonal complex? It was possible that he'd been so focused on his cause that he hadn't been anything more than a casual acquaintance and comrade to everyone. But... would he seem different to them? How had he acted? Had he been friendly or had he been so obsessed with his mission that everyone thought he was a cold-hearted asshole?

Well, whatever happened, he supposed that he always had Sinister, at least. The older mutant had rescued him, and was spending an extraordinary amount of time making sure that he understood everything. Maybe, he mused, as he closed his eyes and drifted to sleep, maybe Sinister had been a father to him. Maybe Sinister had been the father he never had.

o

Logan, Spike, Scott, and Warren stared at the smoking remains of what they presumed to be Magneto's base. After knowing where to start, both Logan and the vampire had no trouble following Xander's scent. They'd moved so quickly that Warren actually had to carry Scott in his arms and fly to keep up.

They'd outlined a few ideas on how to infiltrate the base. They were fairly confident that a pissed-off vampire who Magneto's men had never heard of before might tip the scales in their favor. However, when they'd finally arrived on the scene, they found that someone had beaten them to it.

The lifeless bodies of the Brotherhood were scattered on the ground. Rubble was piled high in places, and the sickening stench of burning human flesh assaulted them. Smoke burned their eyes as they picked through the wreckage, searching for some sign of life, for some sign of Xander.

"Oi," Spike called out to his companions, "Got a live one over 'ere."

"I'll be damned," Logan muttered when he saw whom the vampire had found.

Magneto coughed wetly, blood flecking from his mouth, and a terrible sound filled the air. Warren was the first to realize that the man he'd always thought of as the X-men's greatest adversary was... laughing.

o

The blonde angel flew Magneto back to Xavier's Institute for medical attention, leaving the other three men to search among the bodies for any other survivors. There were dishearteningly few; whoever had committed this massacre had done it well. Magneto's two children, Quicksilver and the Scarlet Witch were alive. Barely. And Mystique was unconscious, but still breathing.

Scott signaled Warren to fly back in the Blackbird, the X-men's jet, after he'd dropped Magneto off in Dr. McCoy's care so that they could take everyone back at once.

Logan looked high and low, but found no trace of Sabertooth. That mutant was one of the only deaths Logan would have rejoiced in, but it seemed Sabertooth had known better than to try and fight whoever had attacked. He'd probably fled.

"What's on your mind, mate?" Spike walked over to him, stepping over several bodies in the process.

"Nothin'," the older mutant replied gruffly. "We've gotta send a team over to bury these guys or somethin'. Doesn't feel right jus' leavin' 'em like this."

Scott moved to stand beside the two of them and nodded. "I agree. But I think we should be the ones to do it... I don't know that anyone else would be able to deal with this sort of... destruction."

"Fair 'nough," the vampire said. "I may be a soulless killer an' all, but I 'aven't seen a spot o' violence like this since me an me Sire were the Scourge o' Europe."

The blonde noticed Logan giving him a strange look and asked, "What?"

"The Scourge o' Europe?" the older mutant cocked his head to the side. "I... remember you."

Scott blinked as Spike responded, "I 'ate to break this on you an' all, but that was o'er a 'undred years ago."

"Yeah," Logan said slowly, "Yeah, it was. I saw you an' some dark-haired darlin' tearin' Prague apart. I... remember that... 'cause your girl was dancin' in the streets singin' to the stars."

The vampire's eyes narrowed as he reassessed Logan. He was surprised, for sure, but after one hundred plus years of unlife, he had a poker face to die for. His voice was low and challenging, and it made the hair on the end of Scott's neck stand straight. "What can I say, mate. I've always had a thin' for brunettes."

Logan growled softly, "Me too, bub."

Scott coughed uncomfortably, catching both the vampire and the mutant's attention. He muttered, "If you two are finished, I think we have a more pressing problem on our hands." He indicated the area around them with an absent wave of his hand. "It may not have occurred to you, but Xander's not here. And seeing as this attack was made not even two days after Magneto __brought__ Xander here, I think it's safe to say he's what they were after."

"So," Spike said quietly, "The real question 'ere is who has Xan-pet."

Logan sniffed the air, trying to get past the fiery brimstone smell, and said something that made Scott's blood run cold. He bared his teeth and snarled, "Sinister."

o

There was a soft knock on his door, and Dual put down the book he'd been reading and said, "Come in."

His Master entered without a word. He spared the book a passing glance, and the dark-haired mutant got the impression he'd managed to please the older mutant again.

"What's up?" Dual asked curiously. He hadn't been expecting to see Sinister for a little while; the man was undoubtedly busy as the leader of this organization.

"It occurred to me that you might suffer some uncomfortable side effects as your body adjusts," Sinister said, his tone conveying a sense of concern. "I thought I might stop by and give you something to help you sleep." He extended both hands; one held two small pills, and the other carried a glass of water.

The dark-haired man smiled. It was... nice. His Master had actually been thinking about his well being, and while he didn't think he needed anything, he accepted anyway. To refuse would be rude, and Dual didn't want Sinister to think he wasn't grateful.

o

Sinister tried not to laugh as Xander trustingly accepted his gifts. It was almost too easy.

He couldn't, however, keep his mouth from twitching a little, as the boy swallowed the sedatives, then washed them down with a healthy dose of his mind-control drug.

o

Note: Yes, I realize that Drusilla was actually Spike's sire, but, pretty as she is, she probably didn't have the presence of mind to raise Spike, so for all intents and purposes, I'm counting Angelus as his real sire.

o


	15. The Walls Come Crumbling Down

Title: The Dopplegang Effect

Author: Becka

Chapter 15: The Walls Come Crumbling Down

o

Dr. Henry McCoy stared silently at the four inert bodies on the MedStretchers, and his furry hands clenched at his sides. Warren and Scott had brought them in, and it had seemed strange to him that only this particular "family" survived: Mystique, Quicksilver, the Scarlet Witch, and, of course, Magneto himself.

He didn't need Logan to tell him that whatever had happened to the Brotherhood had been a massacre, plain and simple. The evidence was clear as he stared at the heavily bandaged mutants in his care.

The blue mutant moved to stand beside one of several IVs hooked into Magneto's arms. True, he was a doctor, but he'd seen it proven time and time again that doctors were not infallible. They were not always honest, and despite the code that they swore by, they could be pushed too far, just like everyone else.

It would be so __easy__ to end the life of the mutant who'd tried to kill his teammate and friends. All it would take was a subtle miscalculation, a tiny variation in the dosage of his IV, and Magneto would never wake up. Henry's hand rested on the tiny nozzle for a moment. Sighing, he let his hand fall back to his side and turned to check on his other patients.

"... why..."

Turning back to Magneto, Henry noted two sunken, feverish eyes staring at him. He watched as the mutant struggled to speak. His voice was hoarse, and his throat sounded scratchy and sore.

"... why... did you..."

"Because," the doctor said softly, "There is one thing you've created in your life that I cannot hate. And if anyone has a right to end your life, he does."

There was a poignant pause and Henry said cheerfully in his patented doctor-voice, "Now, you've got awhile before you're up to any sort of standard, so I'd suggest you'd get some rest, Mr. Lenscher."

"... thank..."

"Don't thank me, sir," Henry responded politely. "I'm not doing this for you."

o

In another part of the mansion, Ororo Monroe, known as Storm to some, stared at herself in the mirror. Only moments before, the Professor had called her into his study and told her what Jean had done. He'd also informed her, quite coldly, that because of the red-haired woman's damning actions, she could no longer access her gifts, nor would she be able to anytime in the future until he was sure she was responsible enough to use them. Last, he'd suggested that, though Jean had fed Ororo's emotions, her thoughts were still her own, and that she needed to think about how she might make amends to Xander when he returned.

Gazing into her own dark eyes, Ororo tried to place what she was feeling. The only word that came to mind was... betrayed. Jean was like a sister to her, and the other woman __knew__ why Xander frightened her; Ororo had seen what that sort of power could do to a person's head. She'd seen how it could twist and warp them into creatures she couldn't bring herself to call human.

When Xander had first arrived at the institute, when she'd first found out the horrifying magnitude of his powers, she simply hadn't been able to help herself. The old fears had flooded her every thought. Moreover, every time she so much as __looked__ at him, she had not seen him for who he was. All she had seen was the fearful product of her mind's eye, what he one day might become.

She felt as though she'd betrayed herself, as well. How many of those thoughts had been her own, and how many had been placed there by Jean? Had __any__ of her thoughts been rational? And if, in reality, she had no grounds on which to fear Xander, how could she __ever__ justify the manner in which she'd dealt with him?

There was so much she needed to make right with the dark-haired man. For now, though, all she could really do was wait. When Xander returned, she could only hope he would accept her apology. Because no matter how little she deserved it, she knew that she needed to try.

o

Dual stared at the two photographs his Master had given him; he recognized both men from his training session the day before, and he wondered if this was some sort of pop quiz. "Charles Xavier and Eric Lenscher, right?"

Sinister smiled delightedly. "Correct." He motioned for Dual to continue.

"Um..." The dark-haired mutant's brow furrowed. "The leaders of two enemy organizations, the Brotherhood and the X-men. Xavier is a telepath, and Lenscher can control metals, right?"

"Indeed."

Dual preened under Sinister's approval. For some reason, he found positive attention was extremely important to him.

The older mutant continued, "If we were to capture these two mutants, their organizations might think twice before crossing us. As it happens, both men are meeting at the X-men's headquarters. We may never receive another opportunity like this."

"So, you want me to just waltz in and grab them?" The younger mutant's wings bristled.

"They will not be expecting you so soon after you've come back to us," his Master explained logically. "And even if they were, they no longer have any idea what you're capable of. But if you are not comfortable with this, I will find another way."

"I'll do it!" Dual said quickly. He wasn't comfortable with the idea, but if it was important to Sinister, he'd try his hardest.

"Excellent. Your ability to teleport will be your greatest asset. Technically, you shouldn't teleport without being able to see where you will land, but in your case, it won't really matter. If you teleport yourself into a wall, you can simply walk through it. If you land in the air, you can fly. Even if you found yourself at the bottom of the ocean, you can command the waters to part for you. Besides, ice does not need to breathe. However," there was concern in the deep voice, "You must be careful. If you encounter any of the mutants I showed you, be on your guard. They will know you don't have your memories, and they will try to take advantage of that. You must __not__ let them seduce you with their words; you are far too precious to me to lose again."

The dark-haired mutant nodded. "Right. But, do you really think they'd try anything so... cheap?"

Sinister's smile was enigmatic as he replied, "They've done worse. There was a point in time where that man... Logan..." Distaste was evident in his Master's voice. "... He convinced you that he loved you, and you believed him. That is how you were captured the first time."

Dual's eyes widened. So __that__ was why he'd reacted so strongly to the man's picture. It also explained the sporadic flashes of Logan smiling at him so intimately. Abruptly his eyes narrowed. He might not remember it, but he would __not__ be taken advantage of again. "Thank you for warning me, Master. I will be careful."

o

Xavier sighed softly. He was positioned close to his old friend's bedside, and had been there ever since Henry had notified him that Magneto had been awake for a few minutes. To be so close to Eric was pure torture for him, made worse only by the fact that both his lover, Mystique, and two of his children were present as well.

_/...sleep.../_ a tiny voice in his mind whispered.

Charles yawned, blinking his eyes and rubbing at them. He was suddenly tired, but he supposed it was no surprise. During the past week, he'd been under severe mental and emotional stress. It would be best if he retired to his room for the night.

_/...sleep __now__.../_ the voice whispered again.

Well, it probably wouldn't hurt if he took a quick nap in the MedLab. No one would disturb him, and if Magneto stirred, he wouldn't miss it. He laid his head down on the bit of stretcher near Eric's arm and closed his eyes.

o

Dual had studied the layouts Sinister provided for him, making sure to commit every detail to memory. However, when he'd arrived near the mansion, he'd found its defenses were laughable. A subtle mind probe showed both of his targets to be underground, near the center of the house, and with any luck, he'd be in and out before anyone noticed him.

There were several people in the room with his targets, and both Charles and another mutant were awake. Focusing his powers, he whispered for them to sleep. The subtle suggestion was almost instantaneously effective on Henry, but Charles fought it off. He sent a second, slightly stronger, whisper, and was relieved when it was obeyed.

_/Wait... how did I know that was Henry. And __why__ would I call him Henry? Beast or McCoy would be more... appropriate./_ He quickly dismissed the thought, and took a moment to delve into the mind of the mutant in question. Once he knew where all of the bits of equipment in the room were, he teleported himself there.

His eyes narrowed as he scanned the sleeping faces around him. It seemed that fate was smiling on him, because Xavier and Lenscher were practically on top of one another. Making sure that they were fully asleep, and that they would remain so for awhile, he hoisted both men up and slung one over each shoulder. Envisioning the area he'd just come from, he teleported all three of them outside.

_/Well,/_ he thought, staring at the mansion, _/That was... amazingly easy. I wonder why Sinister was so worried?/_

Shrugging, he turned away, but before he could teleport himself back to his Master's base, two voices caught his attention. He faded into the shadows, studying the newcomers through watchful eyes.

o

Logan chewed on the end of his cigar in frustration, pausing occasionally to puff it. He growled, "Reckon it's time ta rethink our little __arrangement__."

Spike glanced at him and responded, "Y'want to 'ave another go at me? Or is that jus' the stress talkin', mate?"

The two of them had decided to patrol the area, mostly because neither one of them could stand just sitting in Xander's room. The man's smell comforted both of them, so they'd both decided to sleep there. There had been a bit of an argument over who got the bed, and because neither one of them wanted to relinquish that particular right, they'd agreed it was big enough for both of them. When Spike had woken up that morning, he'd found the burly mutant's arms around him, and one of the blonde's legs had been slung over Logan's. It had been embarrassing, but neither the vampire nor the mutant had made any mention of it.

"Bit o' both," Logan admitted.

"How's that? Either you want a tussle or y'don't," the blonde replied snarkily.

"Shut yer mouth," came the soft growl. "It ain't that __simple__."

"So explain it to me, mate," came the softer response.

Logan ran a hand through his shaggy hair, pausing to think as he tried to put his thoughts into words. "I... care 'bout the kid. Spent the last four months tryin' ta deny it, but it's God's truth. An' then you come along, an' I start stakin' a claim that I don't have __any__ right ta make. At first... I could justify it. You was younger than me, and it was fine. But now yer not jus' some pup stickin' a nose in where it don't belong, 'cause yer a fuckin' Alpha in yer own right, jus' like me."

The blonde stared at the mutant curiously. In his time here, he had __never__ heard Logan say so much. He got the impression that was a norm for the other man. Come to think of it, the older man __had__ been acting a bit strange since he'd mentioned Prague. Originally, he'd thought it was because of the Scourge of Europe, but he'd never expected anything like this.

Much as he hated to admit it, he'd come to respect Logan in the short time he'd known the other man. The man's viciousness and his taste for blood appealed to Spike's demon, and the brutal honesty and willingness to fight for the whelp didn't hurt either.

"It's un'eard of for two alphas ta share a claim, y'know," Spike said offhandedly.

"Yeah, I know," Logan replied in a tone of voice that conveyed he understood completely.

There was a moment of silence before the blonde said casually. "I'm not too keen on followin' the rules, though. Jus' 'cause somethin's never been done 'afore don't mean it __can't__ 'appen."

The dark-haired mutant gave him an appraising look. He admitted, "Never been much fer rules, either."

The vampire held up his hands. "Not that I'm sayin' I want to shag ya senseless or nothin'. I'm a right possessive bastard, but I can understand not wantin' to let go o' Xan."

"So, where's that leave us, bub?" The corner of Logan's mouth twitched minutely.

"Won't know 'til we get our Xan-pet back, will we? Alls I'm sayin' is, if we 'ave ta share, I'll deal. Fair 'nough?"

"Fair 'nough."

o

Dual was shocked when he discovered one of the speakers was Lo... Wolverine. He'd never seen the other man before, but at the sight of the two men together, he nearly lost it. It was like, whoever he'd been before was pushing out, and a mix of feelings washed over him. There was longing there, mixed with despair and the helpless feeling of rejection.

A part of him wanted to reach out to the two men, but most of him just wanted to flee. His Master had been right to warn him; he hadn't been prepared to deal with these... feelings.

Without a second thought, he teleported himself and his two captive's back to Sinister's lair. He had to because if he'd stayed even a __minute__ more, he didn't know what he would have done.

o

Dual stalked through the hallways, bumping into several of his Master's lackeys. He didn't noticed though; all he could think was that if he dropped off Xavier and Lenscher, he could go to bed and forget about the two men he'd seen. "Master?" he called out as he entered the Control Room.

"Doppelganger," Sinister replied formally from his seat. The older mutant's eyes lit up at the sight of the two unconscious mutants. He summoned a few men to collar them, then had them carried to one of the holding cells.

"May I be dismissed, sir?" Dual's voice was strangely subdued.

"Of course, my boy. Report to me in the morning."

Gratefully, the dark-haired mutant retired to his room. He plopped down on his bed and tried to forget about Logan and the man with blonde hair. After about an hour of restless tossing and turning, he managed to doze off, but their eyes haunted him even in sleep: deep, brown eyes so dark they were nearly black, and bright, blue eyes that flashed gold.

o

Later on in the night, Dual found himself inside a metal cage. Only, somehow he knew it wasn't a real metal cage; somehow, he knew that __this__ time he was trapped inside his very __mind_._

There was power around him, pure, mindless power, and it burned so badly but he couldn't let it go. He was dying, and he was taking everyone on the planet with him, but it didn't matter. He'd called on the power, but he no longer controlled it. It twisted and writhed around him like a living creature, and everything kept building and building, and the more he thought about it, the more he fed it, and the more he fed it, the stronger it became, and he knew it was his fault; it was all his fault, and he felt so very, very lost -

- two cool, gentle arms wrapped around him, bringing him back to himself, and though the power still burned around them, it couldn't touch him anymore. A voice whispered in his ear, "Don't do this, pet. Please, this isn't you -

- he heard himself whisper, "... Spike... -

- the power surged again, but he didn't want it to end like this. He didn't want -

- burning him, burning everything, and there was nothing left -

- burning, burning, nothing left -

- nothing left but... -

- SPIKE -

- and the world around him buckled and shattered, and he knew nothing more.

o


	16. Humpty Dumpty

Title: The Dopplegang Effect

Author: Becka

Chapter 16: Humpty-Dumpty

o

Charles Xavier slowly came to awareness. A cursory glance revealed both he and Eric were trapped inside some sort of cell. He brushed his fingers against his neck, not really surprised when they encountered a cold, metal collar.

He dragged himself over to where his friend lay, whispering gently, "Eric. Eric, can you hear me?" and was rewarded with a groggy, "... Charles...?"

"Thank God." For a moment, Xavier had been afraid his friend had been permanently damaged in their journey here.

"Good to see you're both still alive," a rumbling voice laughed from outside their prison. Sinister stepped into view, and even with the distance between them, Xavier felt his blood run cold. Sweat condensed on his palms, and he fought to keep his voice from giving any sign that the dark mutant's presence disturbed him.

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to share why you brought us here?" he asked quietly.

"For wholly selfish reasons, I assure you," Sinister replied with a smile. "I wanted you to have front row seats to this little drama of mine."

"Eric needs medical attention."

"I don't doubt it. One of my doctors will be here shortly to tend to your comrade. That is, after we've finished our little discussion."

The calmness with which Sinister spoke frustrated Xavier, but surprise prompted him to answer, "You would leave us alone with one of your men? Don't you fear we might escape?"

"Please," the other replied, sounding mildly offended, "What do I have to fear? Mr. Lenscher is in no condition to go anywhere, and I highly doubt you would leave him. Beyond that, even if you could forgive yourself for abandoning him, how far could you possibly get? With that collar, you are nothing but a helpless cripple. And even if you __did__ somehow manage to escape, you're no match for my Doppelganger."

Sinister was correct, of course. He sent a silent prayer to his X-men and asked, "Alexander?"

"He may have been Alexander at one time, but now he is nothing more that what I make him," the dark man said softly, echoing Magneto's earlier words with a smile. A sick understanding dawned on Xavier as Sinister continued pleasantly, "Do you know why I chose the name 'Doppelganger,' my dear Professor?"

Xavier placed a gentle hand on Eric's arm for support and responded, "I assumed it was because of his mutation."

The other man shook his head, never losing his maniacal grin. "Not quite. You see, by definition, a doppelganger is a double. But there are legends about them as well; it's said that when one sees their doppelganger, they're fated to die that same day. I found it very... fitting. You, of all people, should appreciate that. After all, you did come up with that novel concept of giving mutants names that reflect their abilities, an emphasis on self rather than the past, wasn't it? And once my boy has absorbed what he needs from the mutants he will meet, there will be no more need for the mutants, you see?"

"You controlled Eric. You used him to create Alexander." There was no heat in the words. Xavier already knew what the answer would be.

"I also selected two of the sorriest excuses of humanity to raise him." Sinister laughed, and the sound made Xavier flinch. "Can't you see the irony? A mutant taught to hate humans by humans themselves."

There was a soft hiss as the door opened, and a timid man in a white lab coat entered. He carried a portable MedUnit, and at Sinister's nod, he sat down beside Magneto and began to work.

"It was lovely talking with you, Professor. Perhaps we can continue this after I've destroyed the world." The mutant laughed, and Xavier could __hear__ the madness in his voice. With that parting line, he swept out of the room, leaving Charles with a sense of dread.

o

Sometime after the doctor finished patching Magneto up, the white-haired mutant slowly opened his eyes. He found his old friend staring at him, and the expression on his face was concerned. Eric couldn't ever remember seeing Charles look so very, very old.

Xavier stared at Eric for a moment and said quietly, "Did you know Sinister has been controlling you these past years?"

"What?" His voice was tense and he struggled to sit upright.

Two warm hands gently assisted him without question.

"I don't know how he's done it; you're far too controlled to be manipulated through the use of drugs alone," Xavier continued as if in a trance. "My best guess is that whatever he used simply fed on your desires for a world dominated by mutants. At one time, you might have cared that it was your son who you used, but that never crossed my mind back then. If it had, I don't suppose you and I would be locked in this cell."

"Charles." There was a warning in Eric's voice, but Xavier didn't seem to notice.

"It was right in front of my nose, Eric, but I was too blind to see it. And you were too blinded by your damned ideals to fight it." The voice that spoke was a rasp. "We've both done so much harm, old friend. I don't know if this is a relief to me, or simply another burden. All these years, I always blamed myself. I always wondered if I'd accepted your relationship with Mystique, perhaps our friendship wouldn't have ended the way it did. Now I know that Sinister used her as well, to drive us apart. How much easier was it for him, do you think, that we fought each other?"

Xavier paused for a moment, and the expression in his eyes hardened a little. "Even so, if I'd only __looked__ at you, seen what was in your mind and heart, perhaps I could have stopped this. That was the problem, though, Eric. I didn't __want__ to know what was in your heart. Because if I had, if I had __felt__ the love you felt for her, it would make it real."

He mumbled softly, "I didn't want it to be real, Eric."

The two of them regarded each other for a while, and Magneto said quietly, "You're rambling, Charles. We can't change the past."

There was another uncomfortable silence, and Xavier responded, "Those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it."

"We can't change anything from in here."

"But we can strive to understand. "

o

Dual felt uneasy. He'd dreamed the night before, though he didn't remember what his dreams were about, but he couldn't shake the strange sense of foreboding that swept over him. Now, his Master had summoned him, and he was on his way to the Control Room, but something in him was screaming at him to just leave. It didn't matter where, just run away, get away, and not have to deal with this war and these ideals that he didn't even remember believing in.

Perhaps the Master would be able to help him. He'd been supportive and understanding, and maybe all the doubts and worries he felt were just some sort of side effect from his mutation. Genetics was a touchy subject, he rationalized, and Sinister had said he might feel some side effects.

Reaching his location, he took a deep breath before entering. His Master stood at the center of the room, staring at the largest monitor. Images of the X-men and the Brotherhood flashed there; some of them he'd seen in his training, but others were completely new to him. There were pictures of violent battles, of the mutants they fought bloodied and broken. All in all, Dual found it extremely distasteful.

"Master," he said quietly.

"Have you come to give me your report?" the other mutant said, his eyes never straying from the screen. There was a sort of sick pleasure on his face that the dark-haired man had never seen before. On the other hand, perhaps he had seen it and had refused to admit it. The thought worried him.

"Actually, I was sort of hoping you could help me with something," Dual replied honestly. "You were right about the mission. I wasn't ready to face Wolverine, and there was another man with him. They didn't see me, but... I wasn't ready, Master."

Sinister was strangely silent, so Dual continued quickly, "You said that I could have time. And I think I need that time, now. I mean, I don't remember __any__ of this. There are flashes, images and words, but how can I fight for you completely if I don't even know what I'm fighting for? I thought... I mean, revenge helped me through the treatment, but I don't think I was thinking __clearly__, y'know? And-"

"You wish to leave me." The older mutant regarded him with a strange sort of smile. "That is what all of your babbling comes down to, is it not?"

Dual shook his head frantically. "That's not __it__ though. I don't want to leave you, but I __do__ want some time to try to get my head straight. After everything you've done for me, I don't think I'd feel right unless I could give you everything I have. You understand that, don't you?"

The dark-haired mutant slumped with relief when his Master responded quietly, "I understand completely, my dear Doppelganger," and he was about to thank the older man when Sinister held up what appeared to be a small control.

"It's such a shame," said a voice filled with laughter. "I would have preferred that it didn't come to this. I was actually starting to like you, boy." With that, he turned one of the knobs all the way to the right.

o

Sinister watched with impersonal coldness as his pet fell to his knees, crying out in pain. He watched as the man's hands reached up to tear at his hair, and how he shook his head violently from side to side. He watched as the minutes passed and the man once known as Xander finally fell to the floor lifelessly.

"Stand up," Sinister said.

The man stood up. His red eyes held no emotion.

"Report yesterday's events."

The man's voice was eerily toneless as he said, "Yesterday's mission was a complete success. I infiltrated the X-men's base undetected, retrieved both targets, and brought them here without being seen."

"Excellent," Sinister replied, his eyes straying back up to the monitor where an image of Wolverine, snarling like a beast, flashed on the screen. "Is there anything else?"

"No, Master." The man's eyes followed Sinister's and he stared at the image.

"I think it's time to extend a welcome to the X-men, don't you?" The older mutant no longer bothered to look at his pet; the ruse of concern was no longer necessary.

"If you wish, Master," came the lifeless response.

"I very much do."

If Sinister turned around at that moment, he would have been surprised to find two twin streaks on the man's face, as a steady stream of tears cried from two dead eyes. It might have worried him a little, because those tears meant that Xander Harris wasn't as far from the surface as he believed.

In fact, he was screaming and pounding on the bars of his cage, begging someone to let him out of his own mind.

o

"You sure this 'ere's a good idea, mate?" Spike asked quietly as the Blackbird went through its final preparations for landing.

"No," came the surly response. At least, the blonde thought it was a "no." It might have just been a particularly harsh grunt.

Spike took a moment to stare at the other members of the team as they strapped themselves down. Warren's wings were folded comfortably over the back of his chair, but he kept shifting them. His face was tense. Logan was chewing furiously on the end of a cigar, and the vampire felt it was in his best interest not to mention that it wasn't lit. Every so often his claws would pop out with a snikt, then retract into his forearm slowly. Scott was in the pilot's seat, and he didn't look nervous, but then, he had a plane to land.

They'd gotten the message roughly forty-five minutes ago. It was a simple video-feed of a tall, dark mutant with a voice like an avalanche. Spike had seen demons that looked less wicked. The mutant, Sinister, had given them a short set of directions and told them if they wanted Xavier, Magneto, and Alexander back, they'd have to come and get them. The vampire didn't like the way the mutant had smiled when he'd said Xander's name, nor did he like the hint of laughter in the man's voice, but there was little choice in the matter. He gave them an hour to arrive before he killed one of them.

Jean had stayed at the Institute; without her powers there was nothing she could contribute. And Ororo had volunteered to stay with her, in case Sinister's message was some sort of trap to leave the Institute unguarded. Not that it seemed to matter much. After all, someone had gotten in the night before and made off with both Magneto __and__ Xavier right under their very noses.

Overall, Spike wasn't too worried. The sunlight was beginning to fade, and it would be dark enough that he could fight. He was a vampire, a creature that Sinister's men probably didn't even think was real. Sure, they might be able to hurt him, but what were the odds of one of them staking him or cutting his head off? Plus Logan had been considerate enough to ask him if he was hungry before they'd left, and had surprisingly offered his own arm. There was power in the mutant's blood, same as there had been in Xander's, and it coursed through him like fire.

It wasn't until they landed and saw Sinister and the only mutant that stood by his side that Spike started to worry.

He stared into Xander's unseeing eyes and wondered what the hell was going on.

o

One of the dark panels in the cell flickered to life. Charles stared at it for a moment, then gently prodded his old friend awake.

"What's going on, Charles?" Magneto mumbled as he slowly opened his eyes.

"Sinister apparently wants us to watch-" Xavier's response was cut short as he recognized his Blackbird landing. His heart pounded furiously in his chest, and an overwhelming sense of dread filled him. He had faith in his X-men. But Sinister wouldn't have brought them unless there was something up his sleeve.

o

There was a calm before every storm. The X-men took in Xander's appearance - the curious tail, the blood red eyes, the blank expression - and Sinister simply watched them, unholy joy written plainly on his face.

The man grinned like a lunatic, running a gloved hand through Xander's shaggy, dark hair. He regarded his unwilling audience, noting with pleasure their horrified and sickened looks. Xander seemed unaware of anything; his empty eyes remained fixed on the ground.

Scott finally broke the silence, his voice strangled. "What the fuck did you __do__ to him?"

Still smiling, Sinister replied, "I made him mine, dear boy." He glanced at Warren, noting the feathery wings with curiosity, and continued, "You remember what it was like, I think. Perhaps, I'll let you live, just to hear you scream when I rip your wings off again."

A vicious snarl marred Warren's angelic face. "Bastard."

"Ah ah. Temper, my dear Archangel." Sinister glanced at Logan with a small smile, then his gaze came to rest on Spike. "And who is this? A new mutant for your cause?"

"Name's Spike. Don't suppose you'd be willin' to let Xan-pet o'er there go?" The blonde's smile was all teeth. "It'd save me the trouble o' kickin' the crap out o' you."

"Such spunk! I like you already. Perhaps I'll let you live, as well." Sinister laughed, "Then again, perhaps not. Doppelganger?"

"Yes, Master?" Xander's voice was as blank as his face.

"Kill them."

There was the barest hesitation before he replied, "Yes, Master."

In the blink of an eye, Xander spread his wings wide, ice creeping along them until he became a living sculpture of ice. With a powerful flap, he took to the air and dove straight for them.

o

Magneto tried to look away from the screen, but Xavier grabbed his head in a surprisingly strong grip and forced him to watch. There was no sound, and the camera was too far away for them to make out what anyone was saying. It seemed too surreal for words.

When Xander spread his wings, and ice encased his body, Charles finally found his voice.

"Your __son__," he said fiercely. "My God, Eric. Look what you've done to your __son__."

Something inside Magneto seemed to break, and he weakly repeated, "My... son."

o

The battle was a joke. Xander was faster, stronger, and more powerful than both the X-men and Spike combined, and it was all they could do to keep alive. Beyond that, no one's heart was truly in the fight. How could it be when Xander was their opponent?

Warren tried to take to the air, only to have Xander zip behind him and deliver an elbow to the back of his neck. The blonde angel crashed to the ground.

Scott aimed his laser at one of Xander's wings to even up the fight, but the dark-haired mutant dodged effortlessly, sending a razor-sharp icicle at one of the nearby trees. It snipped a heavy branch cleanly off, which fell to the ground and pinned Scott facedown beneath it. As Logan moved to help their unconscious leader, Xander darted forward and spear-tackled the older mutant, slamming him through several trees.

"Enough of this." Sinister waved his hand impatiently. "Kill them __now__."

"Yes, Master."

Xander stood still for a moment, and Spike wondered what was going on. A strong gust of wind whipped around the area, growing stronger until it was like a raging tornado with the dark-haired man at its calm center. Pure, mindless power built around him, so thick that it could be seen. It swirled with dark fury, building until Xander was nothing more than a shapeless silhouette.

It was fire and ice, darkness and light, and for a moment Spike found himself lost in the simplistic beauty of it all. It took him a moment to realize where all that power came from, but when he did, he found himself amazed. It was impossible, really. Oil and vinegar were not meant to mix, but somehow Xander had done just that. He'd blended the primal fury of fire and the ageless beauty of ice and it raged around them, freezing and burning and building.

The blonde glanced around him. Scott was out cold, but Warren had crawled over to him and pushed the tree branch out of the way. The winged mutant was now draped protectively over him, shielding the unconscious man. Logan was groggily shaking his head, and the vampire suddenly realized that __he__ was the only one who was in any position to stop Xander.

Without a thought for his own safety, ignoring everything but the man who he'd come to realize meant more to him than life itself, Spike pushed himself off the ground and dove headfirst into that power.

o

He didn't remember who he was. Was he Dual? Was he Xander? All he knew was that he was trapped, and he couldn't find his way out.

There was power around him, pure, mindless power, and it burned so badly but he couldn't let it go. He was dying, he supposed, and it seemed as though he was taking everyone on the planet with him, but it didn't matter. He'd called on the power, but he no longer controlled it. It twisted and writhed around him like a living creature, and everything kept building and building, and the more he thought about it, the more he fed it, and the more he fed it, the stronger it became, and he knew it was his fault; it was all his fault, and he felt so very, very lost-

o

Spike felt his skin crackling, smelled the unique scent of burning flesh, and knew it was his own. It was like someone was holding a magnifying glass over his head, focusing sunlight ten thousand times brighter on every inch of his skin. He dismissed the pain. He had to get to Xander.

He could no longer see, but he knew he was close. Reaching his arms out, he found Xander. Everything was so bright, so hot. Pulling the other man into a tight embrace, a voice he didn't recognize as his own whispered, "Don't do this, pet. Please, this isn't you."

o

- two cool, gentle arms wrapped around him, bringing him back to himself, and though the power still burned around them, it couldn't touch him anymore. A voice whispered in his ear, "Don't do this, pet. Please, this isn't you."

He heard himself whisper, "Spike?" and he __remembered__. He remembered the cocky smile, the cigarette that perpetually dangled from pale lips, the bright blue eyes, the crooked scar, the shock of bleach-blonde hair. He could smell the mix of stale smoke, old blood, and Weetabix. He could feel the magnificent __cold__ -

o

"Spike?" he heard Xander whisper back. He heard the recognition and he didn't think they were going to make it, but it was enough to just __hold__ the other man and hope that he could protect him from whatever might come.

Power surged around them again, and Spike felt himelf slipping, but he refused to let go. Not after he'd come so far. He had to tell Xander that he loved him, had to hear the disbelief and the snarky comeback, had to spend the rest of his life convincing the whelp that he meant it. He couldn't die until then. He __wouldn't__ die.

o

- the power surged again, but he didn't want it to end like this. He didn't want to die. He didn't want to kill. He just wanted -

- burning him, burning everything, and there was nothing left -

- burning, burning, nothing left -

- nothing left but... -

- "SPIKE!" he screamed, and the power around them buckled, no longer sure of what it was called to do, and the only place left for it to go, the only place open to it was the very man who called it, who pulled everything back into himself -

- there was pain, and the world around him shattered, and he knew nothing more.

o


	17. Aftermath of the Aftermath

Title: The Dopplegang Effect

Author: Becka

Chapter 17: The Aftermath of the Aftermath

o

Logan glanced at his unusually quiet companion. It had been a week since... that day... and no one quite knew what to do.

The dark-haired mutant glanced at Xander's inert form. He still didn't really know what happened. He'd been powerless at that time, unable to move as his healing factor kicked into overdrive to mend his broken spine. Well, not __broken__ per se, but Xander had hit him with enough force to __bend__ the adamantium out of place.

He'd seen the vampire look around for help, and Logan could still remember how his heart had contracted painfully as he watched Spike run headfirst into that... __power__. The only thought that had crossed his mind was _/I can't lose them both./_

He'd had only a moment to glance at Cyke and Wings, only a moment to see the blonde whisper something to the unconscious man, before It had happened. It was like nothing Logan had ever seen before. All of that power had been ready to destroy them, to destroy __everything__ and then it just... paused. If he had to put it into words, it looked like the power had actually __stopped__ for a moment to __consider__.

After that, everything had happened in fast-forward. The power had contracted, and he'd seen Xander's silhouette shove Spike away. All of that energy had slammed into Xander with full force, but Logan had seen a tiny fragment of it spiral off and hit Sinister in the chest. Both the dark-haired mutant and his former "Master" had collapsed, and a bizarre sort of quiet had come over the clearing. Everyone seemed to be unconscious, save himself and Warren, and it had taken their combined efforts to secure everyone in the Blackbird and find Charlie and Magneto. They left Sinister where he lay, facedown in the dirt. If Logan had to guess, he'd say the mutant was finally dead.

On the way back, Spike and Cyke had woken up. Scott and Warren had talked quietly as they piloted, and because Logan had been so busy dividing his attention between the vampire and Xander, he hadn't heard what they were saying. And both the Professor and Magneto were too busy staring at opposing bulkheads that he doubted either of them had a clue.

When they'd returned that day, there had been confusion, and Scott had pushed Jean aside to talk to her. Apparently he'd been so busy in his role as leader that he'd never gotten a straight answer from her as to __why__ the Professor had sealed her abilities. And when he'd found out... well, Logan couldn't __ever__ remember seeing Cyke so __pissed__. There had been yelling and cursing from their fearless leader, and a lot of crying from Jean.

Scott had filed for divorce the next day.

As for Jean, she was a ghost of her former self. Not that Logan minded. He'd gotten over his lingering infatuation with the redhead the minute he found out she'd hurt Xander. Apparently so had the rest of the school. After hearing how she'd manipulated both Ororo and Rogue, it would take a long time before anyone trusted her again.

Logan snorted quietly, earning a curious glance from Spike. The bitch was getting a taste of her own medicine, which suited him __just__ fine.

Ororo, on the other hand, was doing her damnedest to make sure that classes didn't suffer from Jean's absence. She'd taken on all of the red-haired woman's classes, and still found the time to drop by and see how Xander was recovering. Even though Jean had been mostly at fault, she still seemed to want to make up for lost time.

Warren, usually accompanied by Scott, also checked in periodically. As did Bobby, who spent __all__ of his free time there. After "the incident," Rogue seemed to be in hiding.

The Professor and Magneto had avoided each other after their rescue, and on the few occasions they had run into each other, there had been tension. The white-haired man was still around, though, waiting for Mystique and his two children to fully recover. They'd all been conscious at some point, but for the most part, Henry kept them bedridden as they healed.

Xander had been unconscious since that day, and neither Logan nor Spike left his side. Spike had been silent, for the most part, and Logan found himself missing the blonde's biting remarks. Bobby was kind enough to bring Logan's meals to him, and Logan had no problem letting Spike feed from him. His blood regenerated so quickly that the vampire could have a full three meals a day without harm.

Henry had surprised all of them when he discovered that Xander's mutation had finally stabilized. He'd even been so kind as to explain it to everyone in laymen's terms. After several failed attempts to get around complicated medical terminology, he'd been so exasperated that he'd told them to visualize Xander's mutation as if it were a mortal injury. Then he'd told them that the power was like an iron; it had somehow managed to cauterize the wound, effectively sealing Xander's powers away. The dark-haired mutant would still have everything he'd learned, but he'd no longer have to worry about picking up anything else through his mutation.

With so much going on around them, it had taken Logan awhile to pinpoint one final change. Whatever it was between himself and Spike had grown; he could feel it. And after a week of near silence from the vampire, he was more than willing to force the issue.

o

Charles Xavier sighed softly. There were a lot of things that should be on his mind after everything that happened: concern for Xander, dealing with his wayward "daughter", finding Rogue, planning the school's defense if Sinister's henchmen tried to avenge their leader's death, and generally calming the entire school down. As it was, all of those thoughts were present in his mind, but the one though that obliterated __everything__ was Eric.

After being forced to deal with one another in Sinister's captivity, it seemed as though his old friend wanted nothing to do with him. Not that Xavier could truly blame him. He'd been in so much shock after admitting the thoughts that he'd kept hidden all these years, he hadn't even realized that Eric would have to deal with his impromptu confession on his own.

Perhaps he was getting old, but Xavier didn't think he could deal with having his heart broken again.

The door to his study opened, but he didn't look up. Instead, he asked quietly, "Can I help you?"

"Charles..."

Surprised, Xavier looked up and met Eric's eyes.

The white-haired man looked away after a moment, and there was an uncomfortable silence. Finally he said, "I've come to apologize, Charles."

"For what?" came the hesitant reply.

"For everything. For not listening to you when I should have known better. For not believing in you when you've always had my best interests at heart." Eric took a deep breath and said quietly, "For not telling you I loved you when I had the chance."

Xavier blinked stupidly. "You... what?"

Eric shifted uncomfortably and said, "When we slept together, Mystique was a different person every night. It was... it was part of her appeal. But the only times I __ever__ made love to her were the nights she wore your face."

Still stunned, Xavier could do nothing but listen.

"All these years I wasted, all the pain I caused... I thought you wanted nothing to do with me. I felt... I felt I no longer deserved you. But after everything that's happened..." the quiet voice trailed off.

"What are you saying, Eric?" There was hope Xavier's voice, tinged with disbelief.

"For a telepath, you must be the dumbest person I know." Eric crossed the space between them and wrapped his arms around his oldest friend. "I love you, Charles. And if you'll still have me, I'd like to spend the rest of my life proving that to you."

There were tears in both their eyes, but Xavier smiled anyway.

o

"It's unheard of fer two Alphas ta share a claim," Logan said abruptly, startling Spike out of his silence.

The vampire looked at him oddly. "Yeah, mate, I think I know that, seein' as I'm the one who said it. Y'gone daft or somethin'?"

Spike's attention was drawn to Logan's hand as he gently brushed a lock of hair from Xander's face. Something about such a soft action from such a hard man touched something inside of Spike that he thought was long dead.

The mutant stood abruptly and looked the blonde straight in the eyes. He grinned and said, "It ain't unheard of for an Alpha to claim another Alpha, though."

And before Spike even had the time to blink, Logan pounced.

o

Sometime later, Xander slowly opened his eyes. He was in his room, or rather, he was in the room Professor Xavier had provided for him when he first arrived at the Institute. He... remembered. He remembered __everything__. God, he'd been such a fool to accept Sinister, but there wasn't much he could do to change that. Heat spread across his cheeks when he realized he'd been ready to kill the X-men. He simply couldn't find words low enough to describe himself.

He propped himself up on his elbow, wincing a little, but all pain was forgotten when he saw Spike and Logan snuggled up next to each other on the floor like kittens. A smile tugged at his lips. They looked... cute.

Not wanting to wake them, he settled back into the bed as quietly as he could. They'd been waiting for him to wake up. The thought warmed him. Maybe he'd just go back to sleep for a little while until they were awake. He didn't want to spoil their moment, after all.

o

Xander awoke to two familiar voices arguing. Biting back a smile, he decided to play dead for a bit longer.

"Forceful bugger, you are, mate."

"Ya weren't complainin' last night," came the amused reply. "Least now I know how ta shut you up."

"Sod it. Ain't worth a fight anyway."

There was a pause, then he heard Spike snort. "'Sides, we need to figure out what to tell Xan-pet when he wakes up."

"Tell him I love him an' you love him, then fuck him 'til he can't protest."

"Bloody romantic, aren't you?"

Xander felt a curious blush spread across his face. _/They love me,/_ he repeated stupidly to himself.

"What's that supposed ta mean, bub?"

"Obviously, you are not a golfer," Spike replied blandly.

That snapped Xander out of his self-titled, "Happy Xander Land," and the dark-haired mutant startled both men by laughing. They rounded on him just as he got his eyes open.

"Bloody 'ell, Xan!"

"Welcome back, kid."

"Love you both, too," Xander said with a weak grin. "But could you fuck me __after__ my head stops pounding from what feels like the worst hangover of my life?"

Their twin expressions of shock sent Xander into another hysterical fit of laughter, which hurt, but somehow he knew that given a choice, he wouldn't change it for the world.

o

Henry had told him not to get out of bed, and usually Xander would listen to him. However, Henry had no __idea__ what it was like to be confined to bed with two of the most overprotective mother hens on the face of the planet hovering over him. He loved Spike and Logan, he really did, but he was grateful when they finally took a hint and went to find themselves something to eat.

Groaning, he rummaged through the drawers for something else to wear. He didn't think he could manage a shower yet, but he'd be damned if his clothes were going to reek, too.

He felt two familiar minds outside his door, and he sighed. "Come in."

The Professor and Magneto entered quietly.

Xander stared at both of them for a moment, then said pointedly, "Yes, I forgive you for using me to create a perfect weapon to destroy humankind. I do not have any intention of calling you 'father,' because other than the genetic ties, I don't really know you. I will, however, concede to getting to know you, and in time, I may call you 'friend.'"

Without giving Magneto any time to respond, he turned to Xavier. "I forgive you, too. I'm kinda' miffed that you knew about all this and refrained from clueing me in, but I'm sure you had good enough reasons at the time. I also wish you the best of luck with your X-men, but I'm not going to join them. If you really mean that about making me an honorary member, I'll accept for two reasons. The first is that if you ever have any problems you feel you need my help with, I will be more than happy to assist. The second is to see the look on Buffy Summers' face when I tell her I'm an X-man."

He quirked his brow at them. "Now that all __that__ is out of the way..." He grinned, "Congrats! When's the wedding?"

Xavier glanced at Eric, who still hadn't managed to wipe the surprise from his face. The telepath muttered quietly, "And you think __I'm__ bad?" Turning back to smile at Xander, the Professor said, "Thank you for... making a very long and painful conversation into a fairly short and slightly amusing one."

"No prob," Xander grinned. "Oh, and I figured out what your codename should be."

"Oh?" Xavier patted his lover's hand gently and wished that Eric would stop impersonating a fish and start paying attention again.

"Yup. Founder."

"Interesting." Charles cocked his head to the side curiously and asked, "Why?"

"Well, beyond founding the X-men, the word implies stability, a home, and someone to turn to. Which you are, by the way, for a whole lot of people." The dark-haired man ran a hand through his hair, more than a little embarrassed.

"Thank you," Xavier said quietly, knowing that Xander's words were from his heart. "Have you thought about your name?"

"Sure!" Xander replied brightly. "How about 'The Amazing Alexander,' or 'Alexander the Great.' Maybe a little too flashy, though."

The Professor laughed, and a voice from the doorway said, "Cor."

All three mutants turned to Spike who was munching contentedly on a box of Weetabix. "Your name should be 'Cor,' pet."

Xander quirked a brow. "Care to clue me in? I though that was just snarky British speak for 'wow.'"

"S'Latin for 'heart,'" the blonde responded casually. He glanced at Xavier who seemed surprised and shrugged, "What? M'not a complete git, y'know."

o

It was a week later that Xander, Spike, and Logan decided to leave. Xander had healed up nicely and was more than ready to get on with his life. After careful debate, they'd all decided to make a stop off in Sunnydale before continuing on to some nice, remote beach for a little vacation.

Henry, of course, had swept Xander up in a gigantic bear hug, and had given the dark-haired mutant a printed copy of his latest thesis. Xander had graciously accepted and tucked it away for Willow.

After the school's initial shock of seeing first Magneto and Xavier as a couple, then himself, Spike, and Logan, no one was surprised when Warren and Scott admitted they were officially "seeing" each other. Ororo had made some crack about the entire community being gay when Henry had shocked them all by presenting the white-haired woman with a rose and the suave reply of, "Not everyone, my dear."

No one had been more surprised than Henry himself when she blushed.

Rogue had been seen flitting about the school, but for the most part, she stayed in her room and listened to __really__ loud music. Xander figured it was probably because she was drowning out the rest of the world, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Last, Jean had seemingly disappeared. Either she was hiding, or she'd taken a little time off to get her head straight. Either way, Xander didn't think the woman would be bothering him or anyone else for quite some time.

o

Xander was packing the last of his things when he heard the door open. His lovers - God, how that made him smile - were off shopping for a box of Twinkies, a box of cigars, and a box of Weetabix, and probably wouldn't be back for another half hour. They'd be leaving after that on a small, comfortable jet plane the Professor had generously given them.

A gentle mind probe revealed the intruder's identity, and he smirked, "Hey, Bobby."

As he turned around, he caught the very end of Bobby's eye-roll. "Never try to sneak up on a telepath," the blonde muttered. "Yeah, I know."

"So," the dark-haired mutant regarded his friend for a minute and said, "Let me guess. You're going to miss me, you want me to promise to write at least once a week, and if I don't visit, you're going to find me and freeze my underwear. While I'm still wearing it. Oh! And now that you've broke up with Rogue, you've decided to swear off all women and was wondering if it's okay to be gay."

Bobby blanched.

Smirking, Xander shrugged. "And no, I wasn't reading your mind. I just saw you checking out Spike's ass this morning and thought I'd mention it."

Without a word, Bobby walked over and pulled his friend into a warm embrace. "I'll miss you, Xan."

The dark-haired mutant tightened his arms around Bobby's waist. "I'll miss you too, Icecube."

Pulling back a little, Xander continued, "But, just in case you're wondering what to do when I'm gone, I think you should go to the door in about five minutes and answer it, okay?"

The blonde gave his friend a puzzled look, but Xander just shook his head and laughed, "Trust me."

o

Exactly five minutes later - Bobby was timing - the doorbell rang. Nibbling his lip, he opened the door and came face to face with one of the most __gorgeous__ men he'd __ever__ seen. Unruly hair, tanned skin, and a body that screamed "walking-sex-God-here" were enough to make the blonde's mouth drop in shock.

The other man looked like he was having the same reaction, though Bobby couldn't quite be sure as he was wearing glasses.

"Um..." Bobby said stupidly. He extended his hand and said breathlessly, "Bobby Drake. Iceman."

After a moment, the other man reached up and took his hand, pulling Bobby forward to gently press a kiss to his knuckles. He stepped back and removed his glasses, and two of the most stunning red and black eyes captured his own. "Remy LeBeau," he said silkily, and Bobby's mind spluttered, _/Accent. Sexy accent. Goo puddle, now./_

"Dey call me 'Gambit,' cher," the voice continued in a husky tone, "But I tink you can call me, 'mon ami.'"

"Bibble," Bobby said. And then he didn't say anything because his mouth had better things to do.

o

Xander smiled as he watched Logan pack the last of their things into the jet. Or rather, he beamed with pride, into __their__ jet. After a lot of debating, Spike had finally coerced them into letting him christen it "Vicious." Logan had laughed a little, and Xander had been left in the dark until he remembered Spike was a die-hard Sex Pistols fan. Somehow the name fit, and in private he'd heard Spike telling "Sid" how he'd take good care of him.

Walking over to where Spike was, he gave his blonde lover a quick kiss on the cheek. "Love you," he said, and he couldn't keep the grin off his face.

Spike rolled his eyes, grabbed Xander around the waist, and pulled him into a deep, passionate kiss - the kind of kiss that made Xander melt into a happy puddle of Xander-goo. After a minute, the vampire released him and muttered, "Bloody git. Two bloody lovers and you don't try and take advantage of us?" He smiled, then leaned over and whispered, "Love you too, whelp."

The blonde's calm exterior was abruptly shattered when Logan walked over and growled at him, then proceeded to thoroughly kiss him. When the vampire came up for air, he looked dazed. "Bloody 'ell! Warn me when you're gonna do that, mate!"

Logan smirked. "Vicious is ready. Jus' makin' sure you are, too."

Spike spluttered and Xander laughed. "We're ready," the dark-haired man said with a snicker. "So, where to?"

"I was thinkin' we could drop in on your ol' pals," Logan answered, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

The vampire grinned. "I think I've told you before, but I __like__ the way you think, mate."

Xander shook his head. "Love you both," he finally said, and he realized that whatever it was that had pushed him had done a damned fine job. Because, despite, or perhaps, __because__ of everything that had happened to him, he was finally happy. He had a group of friends who accepted him for who he was, and a home to come back to if he ever needed it, and not one, but __two__ people who loved him unconditionally and who would stand by his side for the rest of his life.

And without a doubt, Spike and Logan would make it an interesting one.

o

fin

o

Note: Well, that's a wrap, folks. At 100 pages, it's by far the longest story I've ever written, and more over, the biggest project I've ever finished. A big thank you to everyone who has given me feedback, because you and my persistent betas are what got me through.

Now, I realize that there are a few people out there who love Xander and feel that Xander should go back to Sunnydale with his spiffy powers and his sexy lovers and that this ending, while satisfactory for wrapping things up, isn't exactly what you'd hoped for.

Luckily for you, I am also one such person.

So, please bare with me while I muddle through writing a sequel called "Served Cold," where Xander does just that. I don't know when I'll be posting it, but I am in the process of writing it. I hope that you welcome it as wonderfully as you did this fic.

Dated: 10/13/03

Becka

o


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